


Fading Brightly

by bapple



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Bad Jokes, Banter, Fluff, Multi, Mystery, Older!Frisk, Slow Burn, reader is gender neutral but that may change, suspense!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bapple/pseuds/bapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You (Frisk) wake up in a world unknown, with no memories of your life up until now - not even your identity. </p><p>This story follows you as you seek to find your purpose in life, and as you make some friends along the way, help them find their purpose, too. But nothing is ever simple, and the Underground is full of surprises and secrets...</p><p>Undertale semi-AU with a Reader x Sans centric story line, with a little bit of mystery thrown in for good measure.</p><p>Note - This is NOT a post-genocide story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, Undertale got me writing fan fiction for the first time in a million years. I like super slow burn and there's not enough of it for Sans, so, here ya go. 
> 
> I have a rough idea of where this is all going, and it's gonna be a bumpy ride, but worth it in the end. 
> 
> Rated T at the moment, but that may potentially change. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Your knees fall to the snow. A massive door behind you closes you off from The Ruins; the memories of your time spent with Toriel already beginning to weaken and fade in the back of your mind. That was then, and this is now. You made your choice. Move on.

You have no idea why you are here, or how you got here. Amnesia in its purest form. You can't even remember who you were before you came to this place. Nothing. Not a single glimpse into the past remains with you. Toriel had reluctantly let you go; your earnest desire to discover who you really were had eventually worn her down. She had released you into this world equipped with nothing but your own determination.

Looking up, snowflakes obscure your vision and cling to your lashes. The air is clean and light. Walking onward seems to be the only realistic option here. So, you get up. You walk.

It doesn't take long before you realise you are being followed. Perhaps Toriel had changed her mind. You imagine her running back to her home, gathering supplies, chasing after you, tears glinting in her eyes. _Child! I am so sorry! I am here now!_

You turn around. But she's not there. No-one is. Nobody came. You take a deep breath as you remind yourself: you made your choice. Move on.

Suddenly it's all too much. Your determination falters as you fall back into the snow. The reality of how truly alone you are begins to crush you. Your teeth grit as you fight the urge to break into hasty, ugly sobs. You lose the fight. Your palms cup your face as you try to tell yourself that you will be okay. Distracted, you fail to notice a figure stepping slowly out from the trees. You hear a small noise, like a throat being cleared. You resist looking up, that is until, you hear a voice.

'Umm,' it tries, gently. 'You okay there, buddy?'

You risk a glance through your fingers, sniffling softly.

'I ain't gonna hurt ya, I promise. Hell, I was only following ya as a joke, it was gonna be real funny. Here, let me help you up.'

With your eyes still bleary and your face shielded by your hands, you can't quite make the stranger out, but you can just about tell that they have lowered an arm towards you. You scrunch your eyes, wiping tears from them, blinking hard, and then open your eyes fully to assess your addresser.

A skeleton. A bony hand outstretched to you. A blue parka coat, hood lined with fur. Two cavernous eye sockets with faint pinpricks of white light inexplicably shining from within. A toothsome and extended grin. These are all the details your brain takes in before -

A memory - the first you've had since you got here - flashes in your mind. The grin, suddenly predatory. The eye sockets, blackened, emitting a blue glow from one side. The outstretched hand, a warning. _Do you wanna have a_ -

You flinch violently away from the skeleton, damp sweat forming on your skin, your mouth agape with confused panic. You push yourself backwards, scooting away from him. Who was that monster? What was that memory? You've never met them before, so how could you have possibly remembered something about them?

The skeleton's grin falters slightly. His brow furrowed in what you took for concern.

'Heeey, hey, hey now. I said I'm not gonna hurt you pal. Look, it was just another joke. See?'

He removes something from his hand, lifts it for you to see, then throws it to the ground just in front of you. You decide to inspect it. Gingerly, you reach for it. It's just a whoopee cushion.

'The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. Funny every time!' he laughs, weakly.

You do not laugh. You do not know why but your mind is telling you to be scared of this...creature. Your fear takes over from your curiosity. You become defensive.

'Please don't come near me...' You manage.

The skeleton looks, for a split second, hurt. It only lasts for a moment and is just as soon replaced by a relaxed, lazy grin.

'Alright, pal. I won't come any closer.' He lowers himself to sit in the snow, remaining a good few feet away from you.

You scoot back a little further, your body hunched into a cat-like position. You try to compose your facial features into a defiant expression, but you know that the cold has made your nose red, and that your cheeks are still wet with tears. You probably just look like a child, freshly calmed from a tantrum.

Running away doesn't seem to be an option here. You are scared that this skeleton-being will take chase if you do. Sat directly opposite each other, neither moving a muscle (or, bone, as it were), you have reached a stalemate. The only option left is conversation.

'Who are you?' You try to make it sound demanding, but it comes out childish, innocent curiosity seeping through.

'I'm Sans, Sans the Skeleton. Who are you?'

You bite your lip. What do you have to lose? Your mind flicks back to Toriel. _Be careful, my child_ , she had warned. _Do not let anyone hurt you. Be smart, be brave. Don't talk to strangers._

And yet, you found your voice betraying you before you had time to stop yourself.

'I don't know. I lost my memories and found myself here. I don't know where I come from, or who I am, or where my real family is, or even my own name. But I feel like I remembered you, then, just for a moment, like a flashback. You were trying to hurt me.'

You pull your sweater sleeves over your hands. It was cold.

'Even though you just said you wouldn't.' You add, simply.

Sans seems to consider this for a moment. You take the chance to get a better look at him, noticing how his skull is larger and rounder than that of a normal human skeleton. His face seems capable of expressing emotions. His clothes are casual and his general demeanour seems pretty laid back. You notice with surprise that he appears to be wearing fluffy slippers. Suddenly the flashback is seeming less and less like an actual memory, and perhaps more like the trick of a frightened mind - after all, how could anyone be dangerous with slippers on?

You relax, ever so slightly.

'That's right pal, I ain't hurtin' anyone. Especially not a kid lost in the forest, what do you take me for? A monster?'

He grins wide, expecting a reaction from you. You give none, save for a small dismissive huff. Who was he calling kid? You were practically an adult. Almost.

'Yeesh. Tough crowd. I'm sorry you lost your memories, kid. That's rough. I can promise you that we've never met, though. I don't forget faces easily, and I know a tonne of people. You could say a _skeletonne_ ,' he smirks, throwing you a wink.

Your expression falters. You let out a quiet, involuntary giggle.

'Aha! Gotcha.' Sans smiles, genuinely.

You eye him carefully. Maybe it was just your imagination. You were pretty sure you'd never met him before either, and yet... That memory had seemed so real, and this skeleton seemed so familiar... You shake it off. For now, you seemed to be safe. Take it one step at a time.

Relaxing your limbs properly, finally, you adjust your sitting position and smile back at him. It dawns on you just how cold you actually are, and how wet the snow is to sit on, but you ignore it.

'I like your slippers,' you try.

Sans laughs. 'So do I. My brother wasn't so keen, he always said they look undignified. Personally, I think they suit me.'

'If the shoe fits?' You grin, still a little timid.

Sans lets out a chuckle, the lights in his eyes getting brighter. He beams at you.

'Heeeey! Check you out kid.' He places an elbow on his knee, leaning forward to lazily rest his head on his hand. 'You're a natural.' He adds. Kindly, you note - your joke wasn't that good.

You watch his expression. His brow is slack, his sockets relaxing into a care-free, half-lidded gaze.

Strangely, you feel completely at ease with him now. You decide to open up.

'I came out from back there,' you explain, nodding back towards the forest path you walked on. 'Out through a huge door down there. I spent some time with a lady - well, she was a monster, like you, well, not a skeleton, but, y'know - I mean, she was nice, but...'

You trail off, feeling awkward. Sans leans forward slightly, obviously curious. He waits for you to speak again. Patient, you think.

'I had to leave. I need to know who I am. Are there other humans around here? Maybe... Maybe they'll know something. Maybe I can find my family, even!' The idea excites you.

Sans doesn't return your enthusiasm. He looks forlorn.

'Ahh... I dunno how to tell you this buddy, but... No human has ever made it out of this place alive. It's just us monsters.'

It's like a punch to the gut. You sigh. Wait, what?

'So there have been humans here before? But... They died?'

'Something like that, yeah.' Sans gaze drifts away from you. He pauses, thinking. You begin to feel hopeless once more.

'Listen,' he starts, suddenly returning to give you eye contact. 'It's a little more complicated than all that but I'm sure you'd freeze your bones listening to me explain it all out here.'

He stands up and steps carefully towards you. He reaches out towards you, one parka sleeved arm extended.

'Whaddya say you come back to our place and I can tell you everything you wanna know, some place warm?'

You stare up at him. No whoopee cushion this time. You accept his bony hand and allow him to lift you to your feet.

'Whaddya say, kid? I can't promise I have all the answers but I'll try to help you the best I can.'

You see the sincerity in his stare.

'Okay.' You gulp, allowing him to lead you out of the forest, to who knows where else. In a bright flash, the trees and snow disappear around you. All you can focus on is the hard, cold, skeleton hand, fiercely gripping your own, as the world twists into nothingness before your eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness me, comments and kudos in less than 24 hours? I'm surprised and grateful. Glad you guys like this so far.
> 
> Here's Chapter 2 for ya.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

'It ain't much, but it's home.'

Those are the words you hear, faintly, through the foggy buzz in your head. Your stomach lurches and you struggle to stand, your legs wobbly beneath you. Blinking, all you see is bleary, warm colours.

'Aw shi... Sorry kid. I forgot that teleporting does that when you're not used to it. It'll pass.'

You feel Sans lead you to something that feels like a sofa. Gratefully, you take a seat.

'Whart the hell wasss that?' You slur. Even talking felt like a challenge.

'Like I say, teleportation. Just one of my many talents, kid.' You hear the smirk in his tone. 'It's my favourite shortcut.'

Glancing down towards your hands, you notice with relief that the outlines of your fingers are becoming clearer.

'You could have warned me first, at least.'

'Yeah, sorry pal. But didn't you find it... _moving_?'

You groan. Your sight now fully returned, you look up to see his grin, wide as ever. You can't help but smile weakly back. Feeling better, you look around the room. The warm colours you could only just make out before are now revealed as the walls around you, painted a toasty orange shade. It is indeed a sofa you are sat on - what feels like fake leather. Brown, and with a few holes and scrapes here and there.

Sans notices you eyeing the sofa. 'I know, it's pretty beat up. Gotta take what you can get from what ends up thrown down here, though.' His defensive tone makes you feel suddenly guilty.

'No, it's... It's lovely. Your home is lovely.'

Sans scoffs, amused, and puts his hands in his pockets.

'What do you mean, 'thrown down here'?' You ask, curious.

'Whatever you humans throw down here. You can get a lot of good stuff, actually. I got this killer joke book one ti--'

'Throw down where? Where are the humans? Where am I?' You're suddenly anxious.

'Alright kid, take it easy. All in good time, don't get yourself worked up again.'

Sans flops himself down on the other end of the long sofa, leaning back against the arm. You turn around to mirror him, both of you sat on either end, facing one another. You let yourself sink into the plush sofa cushions; so much nicer than wet snow. You breathe slowly to calm down. One step at a time.

Glancing up, ready to question Sans, you notice that his eye sockets have darkened, his expression unreadable. The grin has loosened into more of a slack-jawed gape.

You stare for a moment, unsure whether to be frightened or concerned.  
And that's when you notice the light snoring sound. Perplexed, you realise with a slight flush of anger that he has apparently gone to sleep.

The only reasonable course of action seems to be to grab one of the few, patchwork cushions on the sofa, and throw it in his direction. Which is what you do.

With a playful smile, you lug it at him. To your disappointment, he lifts an arm and catches it midair. You huff.

'Hey now, that wasn't very polite,' he grins.

'Neither is falling asleep in the middle of a conversation!'

'Welp, looks like you caught me red handed. But I guess I couldn't _chair less_.' Winking, he folds his arms; the very image of smugness itself.

You can't help but laugh at the silliness of it all. Sans seems pleased, but you notice his grin lowering and his gaze begin to drift. He looks exhausted. You open your mouth to start to ask if he's okay, but he speaks before you manage to say anything.

'It's been a while since I had company that enjoyed my jokes.' He coughs, looking uneasy.

'What about your brother? You said you had a brother, right?'

Tension. The playful atmosphere has been crushed. You feel as if you have somehow said something taboo, judging from the expression his face contorts into. You realise it's a grimace of pain, and then you realise you have stumbled upon a clearly touchy subject. Maybe he doesn't actually get on with his brother? Maybe they don't talk anymore. You suddenly feel extremely awkward and as if you should apologise. But there is nothing to say.

After a few excruciating beats, Sans finally speaks, his voice thick with - you're not sure. Sadness? Anger? Regret?

'My brother ain't around anymore.' He simply states. He looks flushed, uncomfortable.

It's an ambiguous statement, but the subject is clearly not a happy one, so you decide to change tactic.

'Well I definitely enjoy your jokes, even if they are awful.' You smile in a way that you hope comes across as apologetic. Relief washes over you as his face relaxes, and you hear him chuckling quietly.

'Thanks kid. Alright, I guess it's about time I stopped messin' around and answered some of your questions.'

Sans adjusts himself slightly on the sofa, his expression sincere and serious.

'First of all, you're in The Underground. Us monsters live down here after we kind of...'fell out' with the humans,' he points to you, 'You guys.'

You frown. 'Underground? Then how is there sn--'

'Yeah I know, snow underground, it doesn't make sense. I guess hell froze over.' Another wink.

'What happened with the humans?'

Sans sighs. 'It's too long a story for me to go into right now, pal. It happened over years and years. Our King versus your King, yadda yadda, the rest is history. Literally.' A grin.

'So you guys stay down here? Why?'

'We have to. We can't leave.'

'Oh.'

You stare awkwardly at your hands and feel like you've trespassed upon yet another difficult subject. 'I'm sorry,' you add, lamely.

Sans dismisses your apology with a shake of his skull.

'Not your fault, kid. It's not so bad.' He looks thoughtful for a moment, then continues. 'Uh, the humans, to answer your second question, are up there...' (he points to the ceiling) '...in the Overground. Out in the light and open.'

You feel guilty, almost, on behalf of your kind. If all monsters were as nice (and silly) as Toriel and Sans, why would anyone want to force them to stay trapped Underground?

'Have you... Have you ever tried to escape?'

Sans laughs at your question. You don't really understand what's so funny.

'That's a story for another time kid, maybe when it's not so late.'

Late? How late actually was it?

'I'm not tired!' You say, through a yawn.

Another laugh from Sans.

'Uh-huh. You wanna bed time story?' He says this sarcastically, but you hear a hint of something genuine in there. You stare at him, dumbfounded. How young did he actually think you were?

'I don't know how it works in monster land,' you start, haughtily, 'but in human years, I'm practically an adult. So I don't know why you keep calling me kid.'

'And how old are you in human years, then?' Sans asks, seemingly legitimately curious.

'I'm 19.'

'How do you know?'

'What do you mean? I know how old I am, silly!'

'But you forgot everything.'

The realisation brushes across you, softly. You remember your age. You remember... Something. Tears are soon edging at the corners of your eyes, a creased smile at your lips, your face the picture of grateful, happy, relief.

'I remembered my age... But why only that? Oh, who cares right now - this is something! This is actually... Something...'

You trail off. The happy, baby tears become full, sad ones again. Something is not everything. An age is not a family. It's not a direction to go in. Your fatigue and exhaustion from the day overwhelms you. You bring your knees up to your chest, burying your face into crossed arms. You sob, unabashedly.

You barely notice the movement on the sofa until you feel a tentative, bony, hand rest itself on your arm, ever so lightly. You look up; your face puffy, your cheeks hot and wet. What a cry-baby he must think I am, you mentally sigh to yourself. He's kneeling directly in front of you, his expression looking distraught.

When Sans speaks, his voice is low and soft with care.

'I'm sorry kid, I didn't mean to make ya cry. It'll be alright. Something is only the start, soon it'll be 'something else' and then 'another something', and then soon 'almost everything', you'll see.'

You feel, and look (you imagine), unconvinced. Sans looks at you, despairingly.

'H-hey,' he tries again. 'I know a joke about amnesia, actually.' Pause for effect. 'But I forgot how it goes.' He tries a wink.

Through tears, you laugh. Sans laughs too, clearly relieved.

'C'mere, kid.'

Before you realise what's happening, Sans has pulled you into a hug. The comfort of physical contact - you didn't know how much you had missed it. Timidly, you allow your arms to stretch around him, as his have done to you, and you hide your face (and tears) into his parka. He is not warm, or soft, or even breathing. You do not feel a beating heart, or firm muscle, or smooth skin. But in this moment, Sans feels more human to you than anything else in this world.

It occurs to you, as Sans' grip on you does not loosen, that maybe he needed this as much as you did. Perhaps he had been lonely too. But neither of you were alone right now.

After a long, silent pause, you shift a little.

'Sanssf, I carntf breathef nowf.' You muffle into his coat.

He snaps away from you, seemingly also snapping back into reality.

'Whoops! Sorry pal. I forget that the _fleshily inclined_ have to do that breathing thing.'

Feeling cheered up, and a little bit cocky, you try making a joke of it.

'I guess you could say you took my breath away!'

You know that if it had been Sans to make that joke, it would have come out sounding cool, casual - like all his jokes. But in your voice, it sounded far too sincere. You immediately blush, fiercely.

Sans looks surprised for a moment, then grins. He winks at you, and brushes over your embarrassment like a true professional.

'I tend to have that effect on people. Hey, I wasn't kidding when I said it was late. I think it's about time you got some sleep, and we can talk about all this some more tomorrow. Sound good?'

You couldn't help but feel a little disappointed but, you were exhausted. You give him a droopy nod.

Blankets and pillows are fetched and arranged for you on the sofa. A promise is made - from Sans, to you - that all your questions will be fully answered in the morning. A final few bedtime-related puns are thrown your way, as well as a reassurance that he's only upstairs if you need him, and finally: 'Goodnight, kid.'

Sleep consumes you as soon as you relax into the pillows. You dream of pleasant things, like skeleton picnics, snowmen made of ice cream. And bright, yellow flowers, as far as the eye can see.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, but look! We've got some PLOT PROGRESS ~ 
> 
> I've now got the entire fic planned out, but don't know how many chapters it will be yet. And like I say, while Frisk is gender neutral at the moment, I'm leaning towards moving that to female eventually, but I dunno. What would you guys prefer? 
> 
> Anyhow, let's get to it. Enjoy.

You're warm. And comfortable. That's all that matters right now.

Shifting around in your nest of blankets, something in the back of your mind tells you quietly that it's time to get up. You push that thought away, stretching, pulling the blankets over your head, curling yourself up.

Instead, you listen to what surrounds you. There's not much to hear, but you can faintly, and briefly, make out the noise of what sounds like children playing. Outside, perhaps. In the house, however, you can't make out any sound at all. Nothing. It's eerily quiet.

Sitting up now, you strain your ears to listen out for any sound of Sans moving about in the house. Nothing.

'Sans?'

No reply.

You decide to get up and look for him, but you get as far as the kitchen when you notice a large note taped to the fridge. The handwriting is big and round, all in lowercase, and amusingly written in blue crayon. It reads:

_kid,_

_i've gone out for a bit. won't be long.  
make yourself at home_

_sans_

You peel the note off, folding it satisfyingly between your fingers, simply for something to do. Shoving it into your jeans pocket, you decide to investigate the house. Seeing as you're already in the kitchen, you start there. There's more stuff on the fridge. Photos of monsters you don't know. Leaflets and flyers - one about a hotdog stall stands out to you in particular. _The Amazing Stackable Dog! Get Yours Today! Only in Hotland!_

Your eyes scan the collage of papers and photos and stumble upon another written note. This one has much neater handwriting, all in capitals, and written in an orange crayon, this time. You read it out loud to yourself, quietly.

'Dear brother, I'm sorry, but I must do this. I know you don't agree with it but I have to do what is right. I will return when my mission is successful!'

It's signed, 'Your brother, The Great Papyrus!'

You feel like a trespasser. So that was Sans' brother's name. Papyrus. You wonder what became of him. You wonder if Sans - or anyone, for that matter - even knows. The note looks old; it's fraying slightly at the edges, browning a bit, and the crayon looks slightly faded. How long has he been gone? How long has Sans been alone? Pure empathy and sadness swells within you. Tenderly, you reach out a finger to press to the note. Papyrus, you think. Papyrus.

Your finger makes contact with the note and suddenly images flash in your mind. Voices. The vision is unclear, hazy; rushing blurry images. The voice is an echo, but you make out the words.

_'Pap! Pap, don't do this! Please!'_

_'Brother! It will be alright!'_

_'Papyrus! No!'_

An image of a red scarf flashes in your mind. The voices ring in your ears. With a jolt, the vision clears, and you're back in the kitchen. You snap your hand away from the note, your heart beating like mad, your pulse hard and fast, your head throbbing.

What were these 'memories'? You heard a voice you recognised - Sans. Of that you were sure. But you'd never heard him like that before, not panicked and desperate like the echo in your mind had been. There had been another voice, one that had called him 'brother'. You imagine it could only have been this Papyrus you know so little about. There was no other explanation.

Unsure of yourself, you let your knees give way and you sit restlessly on the kitchen floor, and hand sliding down the side of the fridge to steady you as you drop. The cold tiles give you some sense of reality. You clutch your head. You think to yourself, am I going crazy?

You let yourself calm down. Try to think this through rationally. You have no real memories of these... Visions, so there is no point dwelling on it. You make a note to talk to Sans about it when he gets home.

To distract yourself, you decide to continue your investigation of the house. You suddenly realise that you're actually hungry, so get up and open the fridge. There's nothing inside, except a pair of sunglasses...? They have a post-it note attached to them that reads (in a telling blue crayon scrawl) _'Daddy Cool'_. You laugh, and wonder if Sans deliberately set that up just for you. A joker, even when not actually present. All the scary thoughts that had worried you only moments before, now melt away.

You discover more post-it notes around the house as you explore. Some of them are tedious (one slapped on an empty fruit bowl reads ' _I ap-PEAR to be out of stock. ORANGE you sad?'_ ). Some of them are genuinely funny, and you gladly traipse around the house, giggling and peeling each of them off. Finding that the various clues and jokes are actually leading you on a deliberate path, you follow the 'treasure hunt'. You are giddy and breathless with childlike delight, now running up the stairs.

'What's it gonna be now,' you ask no-one in particular, heading towards what you take for a bedroom door. 'I'm gonna be caught _bed-handed_?'

There's two doors on the top floor. One has a sign that says, 'THIS IS THE ROOM OF PAPYRUS! ENTER IF YOU DARE, NYEH HEH HEH!' It has a skull and crossbones - you roll your eyes at the irony - childishly doodled underneath the writing. The door handle looks dusty. You feel awkward and quickly turn your gaze to the other door, which you figure must be Sans' room. You step towards it, unsure if this is meant to be part of the game. Was he trying to indirectly tell you about Papyrus? Was this all a meaningful scavenger hunt meant to enlighten you?

The door, predictably, has a post-it note on it. Feeling encouraged, you lean to retrieve it. What exciting truth and discovery awaits you? You peer at the note, unsure what to expect. It says two words.

_knock, knock_

That's it?! A dumb, unanswerable knock knock joke? You can't help but feel crushed. That is, until, a glint of realisation inspires you.

'Who's.... There?' You try. You feel stupid as soon as you say it.

'You.' A familiar voice from behind you. You resist turning around as you play along, grinning.

'You who?'

'Yoohoo, I'm behind you!'

You spin around, to... Nothing. There's no one there. You pout in frustration.

'Sans! This isn't funny!'

'Alright, alright, you got me, fair and square.' Sans materialises in front of you. He's smirking, his sparks of white pupils peeking out from lazy half-lidded sockets. He's got a brown paper bag, the top folded over and tucked under an arm.

'I got breakfast,' he announces. 'You hungry? I hope you like cinnamon buns, cause we got plenty of 'em now.'

 

***

 

'You don't have a name.' It's a statement, not a question.

'I guess not,' you concur, before taking another huge bite out of your fourth cinnamon bun. 'These are great, by the way.'

Sans looks pleased at that. You're both sat at a wooden table, on opposite sides. He hadn't been joking when he'd said he'd got 'plenty' of cinnamon buns. Luckily, you are starving, chomping them down greedily while Sans watches you, amused.

'Yeah, Felicity is a mean baker. She runs the shop in town. I'll take you to meet her... When you're ready,' he adds, gently.

You nod, still savouring each bite of food. It really was delicious. You clearly have a sweet tooth. You swallow, satisfied, and contemplate your name. You lick cinnamon sugar off of each finger. You notice something unknown flicker in Sans' gaze as he watches you do it. You assume you've grossed him out, so you stop.

'No matter how much I try, I can't remember anything even close to my own name. But I had another vision earl--'

Sans cuts you off.

'You saw something?' His tone is urgent. 'It wasn't me tryin' to kill ya again, was it?' He says this in jest, you can tell, but it still makes you flinch.

'No, not that. I heard it more than saw it. It was... Blurry. I couldn't make out clear images, at first. All I _saw_ was a red scarf,' you notice Sans' sockets widen. 'But I heard... Two people talking. One sounded like you. I didn't know the other. It sounded bad, like the other voice was gonna do something that 'you' didn't want him to.'

You see a small bead of sweat form on Sans' brow. His pinprick pupils have dimmed.

'...Him?'

A lump forms in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry.

'Well, it... I mean, he, well... He called you brother, so I'm guessing... It was...'

You can't finish your sentence. Sans asks you if you remember how the conversation went down. You tell him. He sighs and shakes his skull.

'Whatever that was, kid,' he starts, voice gravelly with sadness. 'It wasn't right. I haven't seen... My brother in a long time, and those sure as hell weren't our last words to each other. I dunno what's goin' on in that head of yours...'

He looks away from you, his expression managing to look confused, worried, sad and tired all at once. Your heart swells with empathy once more. Your determination rises from the pit of your stomach and fills your veins. You clench your fists.

'Sans.' He turns to you. 'We're gonna find your brother.'

He smiles weakly, but his skull shakes dismissively.

'Kid, it's been years. I appreciate the sentiment but--'

'No, Sans. I mean it. We're gonna find Papyrus.'

At the mention of his brother's name, his sockets widen, the lights turning a faint blue. Inexplicable tears seem to pool at the corner edges. You realise it's probably the first time he's heard the name spoken aloud for a good, long while. Sans looks completely taken aback.

'I'm gonna help you find your brother, and you're gonna help me find my memories, and then everything is gonna be alright. You got it?'

Sans nods, seemingly lost for words.

'We're gonna search the whole damn Underground if we have to, right?' You flash him a supportive smile, your brow still furrowed with determination.

He laughs.

'The world's smallest search party of two,' he cups a palm to one socket, laughing and wiping away tears. 'What are we gonna do, _frisk_ everyone we meet?'

You laugh with him now.

'If that's what it takes! That's what they'll call me, Sans, you wait. The Great Frisker, the most vigilant finder of lost things!' You pose dramatically for effect.

'The Great Frisker,' Sans repeats, still chuckling. 'I like it. Frisk for short.'

Something clicks. You both stare at each other, a silent moment of understanding passing between you.

'Looks like we found me a name,' you smile. Sans nods.

'It'll do,' he teases, throwing his trademark wink at you.

A comfortable silence washes over you both, as you finish the last cinnamon bun. Sans watches you, seemingly fascinated. He's leaning his chin on one bony hand, watching you with intent. You begin to feel a tad awkward.

'...What? Do I really eat that weirdly or something?'

'It's not that, kid,' he grins. 'Human bodies just work so differently to us skeletons. All that skin, and squishy stuff. It's just... I dunno. It's weird.'

You finish the bun. You're not sure whether to feel insulted or admired.

'Weird? Great, thanks Sans. Way to make a human feel special, bonehead.'

'Anytime, meatbag.' He leans back on his chair, crossing his arms, expression relaxed. 'If you're serious about your offer-'

'Which I am.'

'...Then we've got some serious planning to do. The Underground is a dangerous place, and the journey won't be a quick one, kid.'

'I know. But we need to do this. For your sake, and mine. For your brother, and for my memories.'

Sans smiles at your sincerity. 'Alright then, pal.'

'Frisk,' you correct him.

'Frisk,' he nods. 'Jeez, I barely just met you kid, and already we're setting off on a mission together. You don't waste any time, do ya?'

'I guess not,' you reply, happily. Things are finally feeling like they are going in the right direction. It fills you with determination.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this so far. Thank you to everyone who has given kudos, commented, bookmarked and viewed. It means a lot, especially since I expected this to just disappear into the void of new fics.
> 
> Here's another long chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy.

 

'And here, this is Waterfall. That's one of the first places we'll travel through. Frisk? Kid, are ya even listening to me?!'

You slump forward, head smooshing face-first on the side of the table. Sans had been going over a map of the Underground with you for over an hour. Your cheek squished on the flat surface, you grunt out a response.

'Uhmm-huuuhm.'

Sans rolls his glinting pupils at you. He folds the map up and places it into a black backpack. You notice, with some amusement, that the bag has a skeleton dog graphic on it, with the phrase ' _Dog Gone_ ' formed in bones underneath.

'Nicesh bag,' you mutter from your slumped position. You sit up, hopeful that the tedious route planning is now over. You were more of a... do-er, than a planner, apparently.

'Are we gonna get going now?' You try not to sound like you're whining but it comes out sounding all too much like a bored teenager anyway.

'No way, kiddo. We ain't leaving until at least tomorrow. We need to get supplies, namely some basic things for you, like more clothes and... Stuff. Plus I think we should get you used to seein' a bunch more monsters, and Snowdin is a pretty safe place to do that.'

It occurs to you for the first time that, of course, you've not left the house once since being teleported here by Sans. You have no actual idea where you are.

'Snowdin?'

'My home town, kid. Here. Everyone here is the nice type, right? Ain't always gonna be the case travelling past the snow storm towards Waterfall.'

You nod, understanding.

'Alright, give me the grand tour.'

Sans grins. 'First of all, we need to get you better dressed for the weather.'

He disappears, and then in a few moments has rematerialised in front of you, now holding a bundle. He drops a pair of leather-looking boots on the floor, and unfurls a white parka coat, fur lining the hood. Both look worn and a little grubby, but they also look _warm_.

'I know they aren't much,' Sans looks bashful. 'But like I say, you gotta take what you can get from the human cast-offs. I was keeping this coat as a spare for myself, but white ain't really my colour.'

You pull the coat over your striped sweater, admiring the feel of the fur. You remove your current shoes - basic flat pumps - and slide into the boots. They're a little big on you.

'We'll get you some thick socks,' Sans chuckles, stretching an arm behind his head, his expression apologetic.

'These are great. Thank you,' you smile.

'Don't mention it, buddy.'

  
***

 

Outside, the feel of cold air on your face revives you, and you feel a lot more energised. You don't understand how the air could feel so fresh Underground, but like most things in this place, you know it's best not to question it.

'Where to first, boss?' You ask Sans, zipping up your 'new' parka. You notice him smirk at the nickname.

'The shop. We need to get you some initial supplies. There will be places along the way, but, I don't know when or how soon we'll bump into any merchants once we get goin', so, best to plan ahead.'

You smile. For a goofball, Sans was actually pretty smart and sensible.

'Seeing as you meatbags are so needy and high maintenance,' he adds, grin curving upwards. You take it back. Still a bonehead.

'Don't you need to eat and stuff, too?' You ask him, pouting.

'Not really. In case you hadn't noticed, I don't have the _stomach_ for it. Literally. I'm not exactly _organ-ised,_ ' he winks.

You stare at him.

'...I don't have any organs,' he clarifies.

'No, I got it,' you nod. 'It was just so bad that I questioned why I'm friends with you.'

Sans chuckles.

'You tell me, kid. You tell me.' He gives you a light, playful punch on one of your parka-padded shoulders.

'I guess it's simply because I was _bonely_ ,' you try.

Sans gives you a weak laugh. 'Heard that one a million times, kid.'

 

***

 

You knew - from what Sans had told you - that humans weren't common in the Underground. So, really, the fact you were earning confused and curious stares from every monster you passed shouldn't bother you. But it does. You fight the overwhelming urge to flip up your parka hood. You hear whispers coming from the monsters you walk by.

_A human?_

_Who are they?_

_Are they dangerous?_

_Mother, what's that thing?_

You're trailing behind Sans now, feeling the glares and hushed mumblings of the monsters boxing you in. You swallow a hard lump in your throat. _Do not cry_ , _for god's sake,_ you tell yourself. You're staring at your feet while you continue walking. That is, until you bump directly into Sans' back, who you realise has abruptly stopped.

He turns his head towards you, just slightly. You get a glimpse of his expression - terse, like something has made him angry. He grunts out a barely audible question at you.

'You okay?'

You nod, saying nothing. You hear a group of young sounding monsters, laughing. One of them calls out.

'Hey Sans,' it jeers, 'How much to see your freak show up close?!'

Sans' usually lackadaisical grin has been replaced with a gritted snarl. The other younger monsters laugh. You don't see who they are. You can't bring yourself to look up from your feet.

The speaker tries again.

'Does it know any tricks?!' More laughter from the group.

'Alright kid, that's enough.' Sans tone surprises you. It's laced with irritation and anger.

'Aw c'mon, Sans! We just wanna meet your new pet!'

'Yeah Sans! Don't be a buzzkill!'

'C'mere, boy! Or is it a girl? I can't tell, it's kinda ugly...'

You feel sick. You look up, at Sans. But he's not looking at you anymore. There's a blue glow shining from one of his sockets. You see his skeletal hands tighten into fists.

'I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!'

The laughter is brought to a silent stop. You hear the group of monster kids scattering away.

'Show's over, folks!' Sans tells the muttering on-lookers, grabbing your arm and marching you through the snow, and you feel the lurching, unmistakable pull of teleportation.

 

***

 

Your feet land on hard, wooden flooring. It's warm. Sans is still firmly gripping your arm; you look up but realise your vision is still in the process of returning to normal. You groan. Sans lets you go, but you can tell he's still there. You blink hard, foggy vision slowly becoming focused.

'I thought you said the monsters here were nice,' you manage. You make out the movements of Sans giving you a shrug. You hear him sigh.

'They mostly are, kid. But every town has got its idiots.'

You can just about make out where you are, now. You're inside a wooden cabin. There's shelves of goods on every side of you. Scrolls sporting a winged emblem hang on the walls. You notice massive, sprawling piles of books and wooden chests. Candles and oil burners give the room a cosy, orange glow, and you can faintly make out the scent of baked goods.

Your vision fully returned now, you notice with a start the purple monster assessing you from behind a counter. Arms crossed, a dainty hat tilted over rabbit-like ears, she smiles at you kindly from a chubby-cheeked face.

'Sorry for the unexpected drop-in, Fliss. Had a bit of trouble that needed a quick getaway.' Sans raises his arms at her in a shrugging, apologetic motion.

The bunny monster shakes her head. 'Never a problem, Sans.'

He grins. 'Felicity, meet Frisk. Frisk, this is Felicity, the one responsible for those cinnamon buns you enjoyed so much.'

She walks over to you, bending her tall frame down to get a better look at you.

'I can't remember the last time I saw a fresh face around here,' she tells you. 'Where did you come from? The capital?'

She leans back, hands on hips, eyeing you with a genuine smile.

'You don't look like a tourist, though,' she chuckles. 'Are you here by yourself? No other humans, I mean?'

You nod, still a little shy and unsure. You look to Sans, who is investigating a shelf of bandanas. He answers for you without looking up.

'Frisk doesn't remember much. We don't know where my pal here came from, so we're gonna go on a mission to find out. We came to get supplies.'

'Is that right?' Felicity looks pleased. She crouches down, speaking in a hushed tone that only you can hear now.

'I've never seen that skeleton look so motivated before. He's normally a complete lazy-bones,' she chuckles quietly. 'Whatever you're doing, you've certainly inspired him.'

You blush, smiling at her properly for the first time. She beams at your reaction.

'Ahh, would you look at that!' she grins, still speaking softly. 'What a cute smile you have.' She winks at you.

'We're gonna find Papyrus, too,' you tell her, glancing nervously over at Sans. He's still poking at merchandise, but you notice his frame stiffen.

Felicity smiles affectionately at you, her eyes softening.

'Those wacky skeleton brothers,' she giggles. 'They just showed up one day, y'know. Just kind of asserted themselves. The town was a lot more interesting with them around.'

Sans still doesn't say anything. He's feigning keen interest in a pair of leather gloves. Pretending, you can tell, not to listen.

'He hasn't been the same since his brother left,' Felicity confides to you, quietly. 'He spent a long time not taking very good care of himself at all. But seeing him like this...'

She glances over to Sans. He's pulled a checklist out of his pocket, and is now inspecting the shelves in earnest for the items scribbled on the paper.

'He's acting more and more like Pa...' Felicity clears her throat. 'I mean he's always been a joker, but also responsible, y'know?'

You nod. She smiles.

'But this is different. He seems to have his spark back. It's great to see.'

Felicity lifts herself up, standing straight and popping her back with an 'Ooof!'. She returns her hands - paws, really - to her hips.

'I hope you're successful in your mission,' she says, loud enough for Sans to hear again now. She throws you another wink, then walks back over to her counter.

Sans joins you now, the basket full of interesting looking things. He places it on the counter, and Felicity begins to tap the price of each one into a calculator.

You recognise what looks like some kind of first aid kit, a sleeping bag, and a myriad of interesting looking food items.

'What trouble did you have, Sans?' She asks as she tallies the total.

'Just annoying kids. You'd think they'd never seen a human before.' He huffs.

Felicity looks up, her expression sympathetic.

'People fear what they don't know,' she says, more to you than Sans. 'But you're a tough cookie. You'll be alright.'

She places the items in a bag, makes a quiet 'Oh!' sound and retreats into the back. When she returns, she has a cardboard box in her hands.

'I tried something new.' She lifts the lid and tilts the box towards you both. There's four little bunny shaped pastries nestled inside. They look adorable, and delicious.

'Cinnamon Bunny,' she giggles. 'Get it?'

You and Sans both chuckle.

'These are on the house,' she adds. 'That'll be 350G for the rest.'

'Thank you!' You beam. Felicity was so nice. She reminds you of someone, but you don't dwell on it.

Sans hands her a pouch of coins. 'Yeah, thanks, Fliss. We owe ya.'

She shakes her head, ears swinging slightly. 'Not at all. Good luck to you both. Don't forget to come say hi when you get back home, okay?'

'We will!' You tell her, cheerily. Sans laughs at your enthusiasm.

You both wave your goodbyes to Felicity, and soon you're back out in the snow. If only all monsters could be like her, you think to yourself.

'You hungry, kid? I know just the place to grab lunch.'

You nod. 'Sounds good.'

'Great,' Sans grins. 'Cause I know the perfect shortcut.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit shorter. I hope you still enjoy!
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has commented, given kudos etc. It's so very appreciated.

Sans' penchant for teleportation was something you were probably never going to get used to. A familiar blur masks your vision as you feel a the beginnings of a headache come on - and then disappear again just as quickly.

You hear voices, lots of voices. Murmuring, chatting, laughing sociably. Your vision returns and you take in the scene.

It's a bar of some kind, that much you can tell. Monsters are sat on tables and booths, joined by flagons of amber-coloured liquid, bottles, playing cards and... A dog dish? In fact, it seems to mostly be dog-like looking monsters in here, you notice. You giggle as you see a giant, fluffy, white Pomeranian wiggle excitedly from within a suit of armour. Your smile is quickly wiped from your face as you turn, startled by a huge pair of teeth belonging to a massive, plant-type monster.

'HI SANS!' it slurps.

'Hey Big Mouth,' Sans throws him a finger gun. 'How's kicks?'

'Sans!' A seemingly decapitated rabbit head bounces lightly. 'Hey, Hot Stuff,' she adds, giving Sans a sassy wink. This irritates you for some reason. You glance at Sans to gage his reaction.

'Nah, Crazy Bun,' he smirks. 'The only bit of 'Hot Stuff' here is Grillby.'

'Oh! Ha ha ha!' Crazy Bun's fake, over-the-top laugh causes a small muscle near your eye to twitch. You see Sans grin at her reaction; a pang of jealousy hits you. You don't know who Grillby is, and you don't get the joke, so you stay silent and stoic-faced.

Crazy Bun turns her gaze to you. Her eyes narrow.

'Who's your friend?' She asks, sounding like she actually couldn't care less.

'This is-'

'I'm Frisk. Nice to meet you,' you butt in. Sans looks at you, surprised at your curt tone.

'Pleasure's all mine, I assure you...' Crazy Bun has already turned her head - body, whatever it was - back to Sans. 'So, Sans, Bone-Daddy, what brings you here today, sweetie?'

You cringe. You're not sure why this conversation is irritating you so much. You turn your scowl to the floor.

'No time to chat today, Bun. Me and my pal here are on a tight schedule,' Sans winks, pointing towards one of his bony wrists, as if there was a watch there. Before she can answer, Sans has started walking towards the bar. You shrug at her, then follow him gladly.

'Thing about Bun, kid,' Sans mutters to you quietly, once you've caught up to him. 'She just doesn't ever shut up.'

You fight back a smirk. 'She seemed to have a bit of a thing for you, though,' you try.

Sans shrugs. 'Not my type.'

You don't know why, but you feel your cheeks burn slightly, and your mouth contorts into an involuntary, giddy smile. Sans takes a seat at the bar, and pulls out a stool for you to join him, which you do.

'Grillbz will be out in a sec. Whaddya fancy? Burger or fries?'

'Fri--'

Before you can answer, a moment of panic takes over you as flames emerge from the door behind the bar. You make the motions of fleeing, at the sight of fire, but Sans stops you with a gentle hand on your arm. Then you realise - this must be Grillby. A man made from flames. Oh. 'Hot Stuff'.

You settle back onto the stool and try not to stare too obviously. The flame-monster's voice comes out gruff, yet smooth, when he speaks.

'Sans. The usual?' He reaches for a bottle from the shelf.

'Ahh, haa, not today Grillbz,' Sans seems flustered. 'I got company,' he adds, nodding his head in gesture towards you.

Grillby turns his sunglasses towards you. The warmth and glow emitting from him feels like it's enveloping you. He seems to stare at you for a long moment, nods once, then turns back to Sans.

'What can I get you both?'

Sans grins.

'Two orders of fries. And a bottle of ketchup.'

 

***

 

Grillby, you quickly realised, was the quiet type. A monster of few words, he seemed to only speak when he felt it was necessary or appropriate. Despite this, and despite the fact he has said very little to you at all, you find yourself liking him immensely. Sans had explained your situation, and Grillby had nodded, cleaning glasses as he listened. His flame had burned a little brighter as Sans explained your determination to find Papyrus; you took this as a flame-monster's way of expressing surprise.

You happily eat your fries, grateful that monster food seems to be good wherever you go. Sans has finished explaining the plan, and takes a large swig from the ketchup bottle. Where that ketchup goes, you have no idea. As always, you try not to think too hard about monster logic.

'Me and Grillby go way back,' Sans explains to you. 'He's seen me at my worst, that's for sure.'

'As any barman will for any of his patrons,' Grillby states, simply.

Sans laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head.

'We better get goin', anyways. Add that to my tab, Grillbz.' Sans throws him a wink, getting down from his stool. You stumble off from your own, a little clumsily, sleepy from food and warmth.

'As always. Good luck Sans.' Grillby turns to you. 'Good luck to you also, human. Any friend of Sans is a friend of mine.'

You nod, taking pleasure in the fact that Grillby said all he needed to in those few words. There was no... Filler, with Grillby. You like that. Yawning, you pull on your coat. It was really easy to lose track of the time here, seeing as there was no real night and day, but you felt like you had been out for hours. You were drained. There was so much to understand and take in with this world. Sans is eyeing you.

'You tired, kid?'

You nod, gently.

'Yeah, me too,' he admits. 'Let's go home.'

You nod again. The word 'home' sounds to you like comfort, safety and a promise, all rolled together. You realise it's a word that you still don't have the right to say, of anywhere. Sleepy, and now feeling downtrodden, you slump after Sans, following him through the snow.

The paths are quieter now. Only a few monsters pass you as you walk, and they do not make any comments. They just simply pass you and carry on. You wonder if that's because you're with Sans. The whole village must have heard his outburst earlier.

As you walk, you slip into the familiar routine of staring down at your feet. You think more on the word 'home'; it vibrates in your mind, reminding you repeatedly in waves that you are so very much lacking your own. The combination of tiredness and distracted angst causes you to misstep. You trip slightly, falling to your knees with a gasp.

Luckily, the snow works like padding, and you don't really hurt yourself. You're struggling to pull yourself up, sniffling. Suddenly you feel strong, hard hands either side of you, lifting you to your feet.

'Careful, kid.' Sans looks you up and down, quickly. When he's apparently satisfied you're not injured, he places his hands in his pockets. 'I would have teleported us home,' he adds. 'But it's already taken a lot out of you today.'

'I'm alright,' you manage.

Sans looks at you for a long moment. His expression seems to say, _no you're not, I know you're not, but that's alright_.

'I know you are, pal.' Is what he actually says.

You both stare at each other. You begin to feel awkward, so you talk to fill the silence.

'Do skeletons ever get hurt? Is that even possible?'

Sans begins to walk again, and you follow suit, this time alongside him. Your puffy parka coats bump together as you walk side by side. The colliding fabric makes a satisfying 'swoosh' sound.

'Sure, sometimes. If we put ourselves into dangerous situations.'

The answer is cryptic. You press on.

'How often does that happen?' You try.

Sans laughs. 'I dunno kid, but if can happen. After all, I was _bone to be wild_.'

You groan, then laugh. The two of you spend the rest of the journey home throwing bad jokes back and forth, the shoulders of your parkas pressed together.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! I return with a new chapter. 
> 
> Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Years. Now that the festivities are over, I'll be updating on a regular basis once more. Thank you for your patience, and as always, all your lovely comments/kudos etc. 
> 
> Also, apologies for any little mistakes regarding grammar/tenses etc. I try my best to edit but some little errors do creep through, so, thanks for ignoring those ;)
> 
> We have a few little more hints to the overall main plot in this chapter, and some fluff, too. 
> 
> Enjoy.

 

'This isn't half bad.' You tell Sans, through a mouthful of some kind of meatloaf-type... _Thing_. It's a rectangular, meaty block, with a strange, pressed-in pattern that makes it look like some kind of television. It's pretty tasty, though. Sans isn't eating, but he sits at the table with you anyway.

'Those are pretty rare around here actually. Kind of a speciality, but Fliss had some sold to her by a traveler recently.'

'What's it called?'

'Steak In The Shape Of Mett--'

Sans was interrupted by a violent knocking on the front door. It startles you, and you almost choke on your current bite before swallowing it safely down. Sans grins at you as he gets up from the table.

'That sure rattled your bones, huh?' He leers.

'Shut up,' you pout.

Sans lazily makes his way to the door. You lean back on your chair to try and get a glimpse of the visitor, but as Sans opens the door, you see there is no one there. You hear Sans swear under his breath, and you can just about make out the sound of distant, childish laughter. You wince and hunch your shoulders as you turn back to your meal. You push it away, appetite gone.

'Who was it?' You ask, feigning ignorance as Sans comes back to the table.

'...Don't worry about it, kid. Nothing important.' Sans clears his throat awkwardly as he sits back down.

You sigh.

'Do monsters really hate humans that much?' Your voice is quiet.

Sans looks surprised for a second, before his expression softens. He looks apologetic.

'It's not that simple, kid.'

When Sans doesn't say anything else, you sigh again, feeling defeated. You're staring hard at your own hands, not sure how to react or what to say.

'You know that I don't hate ya, don't you, pal?' Sans asks you. He tries to make it sound jokey and light-hearted, but you can tell that he's also trying to be serious with you.

You nod, forcing a meek smile onto your face. 'I know.'

'Good.'

Your leftovers and dish are cleared away, and Sans flops himself down onto the sofa. He grabs a remote and switches on the television. You join him on the other end of the sofa, sitting with your knees brought up to your chest. The TV is showing some sort of informative programme about 'snow poffs'. The presenter is pointing to various poffs and exclaiming about how it's definitely made of snow.

You turn to Sans, to ask him about this ridiculous programme, but you realise he has fallen asleep. For real, this time, it would seem; his sockets are closed, bony unexplainable lids covering them. His wide, toothy grin has relaxed into a sleepy 'o' shape. You hear light snores - real ones, you can tell, unlike the cartoonish snorts he'd made when pretending before.

Turning back to the TV, you giggle quietly as you watch the presenter exclaim in surprise as a snow poff sprouts a tail and a pair of fluffy white ears. The poff falls away to reveal a huge Pomeranian in a suit of armour. The presenter tells you that this is 'Certainly an interesting turn of events!', and begins to attempt to interview the dog.

Monster television is just like monster food, you think. Familiar, enjoyable - but wholly different and totally bizarre at the same time. You smile to yourself. It may be weird, but you like it here, you think, as you watch the Pomeranian playfully tackle the stressed presenter.

Feeling dopey with tiredness, you stretch out a little, easing into the squashy sofa cushions. You yawn, and feel your eyes itch with a need to sleep. You rub them, like a sleepy child, temporarily brushing your overgrown fringe away from your face.

'I see what Fliss means, you do gotta cute face, kid.'

You flinch violently, as Sans sudden comment surprises you. You blush and fluff your fringe back over your face. You look at Sans to see he's opened a single socket.

'When you're not hiding it under all that hair,' he adds, closing the socket again. 'How do you even see through it?'

You shrug, and then realise that he can't see you with his eyes closed.

'I dunno, I just deal with it, I guess.'

Sans grunts in response, his smile relaxing back into sleepiness. Feeling awkward and a little embarrassed, you turn back to the TV. It's switched to a commercial break. The volume on the TV is low, so you can't quite make out what's being advertised, but it looks like some kind of hotel. A pang of courage rolls up from your stomach, and you decide to speak again.

'Thank you, by the way.'

'For what, kid?' Sans' voice is slow and grizzly with half-sleep.

'Everything.'

'Anytime, pal.' Sans throws you a lazy finger-gun, without opening a socket. 'Anytime.'

'No, really,' you enthuse. 'I'd be still lost in the snow - or, or worse, if you hadn't offered to help me. I mean it. I'm really grateful.'

You look back to the TV screen. The presenter is playing fetch with the dog-knight. Outside, you see that the snow has begun to fall again, softly. Lightly. How snow falls from a sky that does not exist, you will never understand. While that may be true, however, it will never fail to amaze you, and never be anything but simply magical, you think.

Everything here was so new, and yet so comforting - well, aside from the odd bit of anti-human annoyance. Surely, the home that you can't even remember can't be too far from here? Surely, if you must leave, you will be able to visit? You'll miss this place too much now, you realise. When the time comes that you have to leave, how will you leave your memories of the Underground behind?  
Shaking your head slightly to rid yourself of the worry - for now - you focus on the task in hand. Finding Papyrus. Other than what you had to go on at the moment, which wasn't much, you really had no clues as to where he may be. You swallow hard.

'Sans. Where did Papyrus go when he left? I mean, what did he go off to do?'

You turn to Sans, hopeful for explanation. It is apparent, however, that he has returned to sleep, his expression slack. It has been a long day, you think. This question can wait until tomorrow.

Unfolding the pile of blankets that you neatly arranged this morning, you throw one over Sans, gently. You pull the other over yourself, curling up, and letting yourself finally get some rest. As you drift off, you let the low hum of the television lull you; your sleepy imagination full of snow, and dogs, and skeletons.

 

 

***

 

 

A pain in your cheek. There's something sharp and hard pushed against your face. Bleary-eyed and not quite yet fully awake, you open your eyes. Not moving just yet, you assess the situation. Apparently, at some point in the night, you ended up in this unusual position. Which is: Sans is still asleep sat upright, but your head is resting on his lap (a bony knee now pressed into your cheek), and one of his arms is loosely and floppily draped over your back. Your body tenses as soon as you realise quite how... _intimate_ , this looks. Sans is still snoring, mercifully; meaning your embarrassment is spared for the moment. If you can figure out a way to move without waking him, then everything _will be fine._

Awkwardly, and painfully slowly, you ease your body off of Sans in a series of tiny, careful movements, stopping whenever you think he might wake up. Just as you've managed to almost fully lift yourself off him, a loud ringing noise causes Sans to jolt awake suddenly. His skull bangs against your head as he bolts forward, and both of you yelp in surprise and pain. You scoot back on the sofa, clutching the side of your head, while Sans takes out something from his parka and silences the ringing sound.

'S'just my phone alarm, kid. See?' Sans holds up a small device. It's a smart phone. The wallpaper is a picture of Sans with another skeleton you don't recognise. Sans is winking and throwing the camera a thumbs-up, while the other skeleton is doing some kind of macho-man pose.

Oh. _That must be Papyrus_ , you realise.

'Sorry about that, buddy. Didn't mean to _alarm_ you quite so badly,' Sans chuckles, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looks back at you, socket-lights glinting, and there's a moment of awkward silence. You watch as the realisation dawns over Sans, about the position you had been in. Your cheeks flush.

'It's okay, I'm alright.'

Sans doesn't say anything. He looks a little lost for words, actually. You notice a faint blue glow, dusting his bony cheeks - was he _blushing_? He shakes his head and immediately seems to regain his cool.

'Phew, I was worried there for a moment, pal.' He rubs his forehead. 'I'm such a _numbskull_ sometimes.'

You giggle, softly. The awkwardness dissipates.

'Are we setting off today, then?' Your tone is eager.

  
Sans nods his skull.

'Sure thing, kiddo. We just need to pack up our junk and we can hit the road.'

You grin. You feel your face light up, childish excitement taking over your features. Sans smiles at your expression. He stands up, stretching and popping his bones. He ruffles your hair with a skeletal hand.

'You're an odd one, kid. A total weirdo, y'know that?'

You're about to huff out a pouty retort, when Sans continues.

'--I mean that in a good way. I mean it like, well, I dunno. You're not like any other human I've met, that's for sure. I mean, you really wanna help me find my brother, don't you?'

You nod enthusiastically.

'Exactly. See, we have only known each other a few days and you're already so... Determined.' Sans scratches the back of head. 'I've never met someone so willing to help a stranger before.'

'You mean, like you?'

Sans looks confused.

'Well I mean, you helped _me_ and I was a total stranger to you, too,' You clarify.

Sans laughs. 'I guess you're right, pal. Guess no-one taught either of us about _stranger-danger_ , eh?'

You giggle. 'We're not strangers now though, right?'

'Definitely not, pal. We're friends,' Sans agrees, throwing you a wink. 'I knew we would be.'

You wait for it.

'I felt it in _my bones_ ,' Sans grins.

'That's not _humerus_ at all,' you throw back. Sans' grin gets wider, his socket-sparks brightening.

' _Tibia_ honest, your chances of being funnier than me are very _marrow_ ,' Sans quips.

Both of you are laughing now, and you find yourself struggling to think up a comeback.

'Damnit!' You chuckle, admitting defeat. Sans grins in triumph, his hands in his pockets.

'Alright kid, enough funny business. Let's get packed up.' Sans sounds enthusiastic, and you can't help but feel your heart lighten.

You nod in agreement. 'Lets do this!'

 

 

***

 

 

 

'I don't get it.' You're staring at a wooden box.

'Aw kid, c'mon, don't make me go over this again. It's simple.'

'I don't get it,' you repeat. Sans sighs.

'Okay, one more time,' he allows. 'Dimensional Box: you put junk in it, you take junk out, you access junk from your phone through the power of space and time.'

Sans places the carton of cinnamon bunnies in the Dimensional Box, closes the lid, then presses a button on his phone. The box of pastries materialise in front of his feet with a soft _thwop_.

'It's monster magic, whatever. We can put everything we'll need for the trip in here rather than luggin' it around the whole way.' Sans shrugs casually.

You stare at the box. Monster magic - or science, whatever it was - is amazing, you think to yourself. Your hair still damp from being freshly washed in the shower (thank goodness Sans had a bathroom for guests), you tuck one side behind an ear and lean to inspect the box closer.

'Does it work for living things, too? Like if I got in the box, could you transport me too?'

Sans shrugs. 'No idea, kid. I mean it's a big box, so a shortass like you would have no trouble fitting in there at all.'

You stick your tongue out at Sans and he grins.

'Whether the withdraw/deposit system would apply to a living thing, I dunno.'

You nod, understanding. Then a thought occurs to you.

'Speaking of transportation, why aren't you just teleporting us on our journey through the Underground?'

Sans closes his sockets and lifts his arms out in casual pose.

'Few reasons, kid,' he starts. 'One, it takes a lot out of you, and you're gonna need to keep your wits about you for this trip. Two, some places it can actually be pretty dangerous if I don't get the placement of our arrival quite right. Not much margin for error, and that's more likely to happen when I'm teleporting to more unfamiliar areas, or over long distances.'

You nod. Makes sense, you think to yourself.

'Plus,' Sans starts again. 'If we take too many shortcuts, then we could miss something important.'

'That's true,' you agree. You look back at the Dimensional box. 'So we can send stuff back to the box, from your phone, too?'

Sans beams. 'Yeah. It's pretty cool, huh?' He places the last few items inside - mostly food - and closes the lid.

'Everything is pretty cool here,' you giggle. Sans looks pleased.

'Alright kid. Get your coat and boots on. You're gonna need them - first stop is Waterfall, and we've got the Neverending Blizzard to get through to get there.'

You try to look as determined and courageous as possible, as you nod in compliance and pull on your parka. A spark of a memory lights up in your mind. _Oh yeah_ , you think to yourself.

'Sans?'

'Yeah, pal?'

'What did Papyrus leave for? What was his mission?'

Sans zips up his own parka, and then meets your gaze. His sockets have dimmed.

'He... He wanted to help someone, try and save them. Someone important to us, something bad happened to them and Pap felt like it was up to him to save them.' Sans voice sounds strained.

'Who was it?' You ask, gently and quietly.

Sans looks away from you. He pushes his feet into his slippers, checks that his phone is in his pocket with a pat, and walks towards the front door.

'Sans?'

He opens the front door and lifts his hood up.

'It was our dad.' He tells you, without turning around. 'C'mon kid. Let's go,' he adds.

You walk up to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. You feel him tense, and he turns to face you. His sorrowful expression makes something inside you clench uncomfortably, and you feel guilty for even bringing this up.

'I'm sorry,' you say. You don't ask anymore questions. You figure that Sans will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. As you walk together through the snow, neither of you speaks for a long time. That is until Sans says something so quietly, that you might have missed it completely, had you not been really listening.

'I'm so glad I met you, kid.'

You smile to yourself, face hidden by your fluffy parka hood. Your breath creates steam on the frozen air, and you feel the oncoming snowstorm beckoning you onward. This was, in every possible way, most definitely the right kind of progress.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit long, to make up for the fact it's been a good few days since I last updated.
> 
> Enjoy.

You're staring straight ahead. The horizon is cloaked in a fog of hazy, heavy snowfall. Together you and Sans had left Snowdin, following the icy path out of the town. All that lies in front of you now is the harsh wall of the snow storm. As you walk onwards, you feel the wind and the falling snow get gradually more severe.

Sans walks along side you, the glow from his sockets still just about visible through the rapidly thickening storm. The wind rushes through you, ringing in your ears.

'You okay kid?' You hear Sans call out to you.

'Yeah!' You shout back. Truthfully, you were not fully 'okay'. The cold was seeping into your clothes, biting at you in frosty nibbles at your fingers and nose.

'We've almost reached the thickest part of the storm,' Sans yells through the bluster. 'Just a little farther!'

You try to nod, but lifting your head to even attempt to look up is an effort. Your walking speed is forcefully reduced now to a slow crawl; a fight against the storm to move forward. Your face stings with wet ice.

'Keepffff gooingf kiihd!' Sans voice is becoming harder to make out. You grit your teeth to stop them chattering, your arms crossed against your chest, face firmly facing down and your eyes barely managing to stay open.

You feel the level of snow underfoot getting thicker and harder to wade through. Your boots are soaked through. Your determination is threatening to falter: a tiny voice in the back of your mind speaks quietly, _you can't do this. You're not strong enough. You'll die out here._

Your jaw is aching with how hard it's clenched. _What's the point of this_ , the voice asks.

Your legs begin to shake with trying to fight the force of the gale blowing against you. _Just give up,_ the voice tempts.

One numb foot hits something hard - a rock, your dulled senses tell you - and the shock of it makes you lose your rigid composure. Panic weakens you temporarily and the wind defeats you for the first time, blowing you backwards and causing you to fall into the snow. You clamber onto your knees, gripping onto the guilty rock buried in the snow to steady you.

'Sans?!' Your voice is lost in the storm. You can barely even hear it yourself.

'SANS!' You try to project your voice as much as possible, but your increasing panic makes it more of a screech than a yell. 'SANS! WHERE ARE YOU?'

You try to look around. All you can see is white, the heavy flurry of snow making it impossible to make anything out. You feel your heartbeat drum wildly in your throat. It feels like it might choke you.

'SANS?'

Tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes, streaking across the sides of your face as the wind pushes them backwards. _This is hopeless_.

Your voice cracking with despair and effort, you try to call for Sans repeatedly. Your determination is reaching a dangerous new low, you feel within yourself.

You hear a low voice rumble right next to your ear.

'It's okay kid. I got you.'

Sans' arm links underneath yours, and he helps you to lift yourself up from the snow. He keeps his arm linked tightly around your own. You make out a glint of blue light.

'We got this, kid!' He calls to you. The wind is howling.

Together you walk, tightly pressed to each other, Sans' firm arm supporting you. Through the storm he leads you. It feels like an eternity that you struggle through the snow. Gradually, you feel the storm lessen, slowly, until you find yourself walking through milder snowfall; then milder still, until there is no snow falling at all.

You have both made it through. The air is still. You fall to your knees in the snow, exhausted.

You feel Sans pat you lightly on your shoulder.

'You had me worried back there, pal.'

'Yeah,' is about all you can manage to breathe out in reply.

Sans falls into snow in front of you, sitting with his legs splayed out and hands propping himself up either side. His expression mirrors your own; relief and tiredness. That is, until, you watch a wide and familiar grin slowly spread across his jaw.

'There's _snow way_ I'm ever walking through that again,' Sans says.

You don't know how to react. You are cold, wet, exhausted. You could have died. How can Sans sit there and make causal jokes?

_But you didn't die_ , a determined voice in your mind tells you. _You did it._

You smile, disbelief and grateful relief taking over you. You laugh quietly to yourself, at first; then laugh whole heartedly, looking up at Sans, who quickly joins in. In moments, the two of you are laughing together like fools. You grab a handful of snow and lug it at Sans. It hits against his parka covered chest.

'We did it!' You laugh, giddy and nearly hysterical now. 'We didn't die!'

You get up and run in the snow, jumping and kicking it around, whooping loudly. Sans watches you from where he's sat (clearly either too tired or lazy to move _just yet_ ). He laughs at you, eyes half-lidded with... You're not sure. Amusement? Affection?

You run over to him. In your excitement, you grab one of his arms, pulling him up to join your celebration. His surprised expression makes you laugh even harder, and then he's laughing with you again, both of you spinning in the snow with giddy relief.

As you calm down and the spinning slows, you realise that your hands somehow ended up entwined with Sans' own bony ones. Sans seems to make the same realisation and you both suddenly pull away, Sans returning his hands to his pockets.

He gives you a wink and a grin, and with that, your embarrassment is saved before you even begin to blush.

'Good job kid,' Sans praises you. 'You did great back there. Humans are tougher than I thought.'  
'I dunno, I wouldn't have survived if you hadn't found me, I don't think,' you admit.

Sans shakes his head. 'Nah,' he says. 'You did great.'

He throws you a over-the-top thumbs up, which makes you laugh.

'Well, you were alright too, I suppose,' you tell him, a cheeky smile playing on your lips.

Sans huffs, amused. He kicks you lightly in the leg with a slippered foot. It's a mock kick, and in return, you react with mock pain.

'How dare you!' You retort, giggling.

Sans does his usual shrug. 'What can I say? I'm a _bone-ified_ badman.'

You dismiss this with a snort, and both of you chuckle. Sans brushes snow off his coat.

'C'mon, kid. Let's keep going. Not much farther to go until we can set up camp.'

 

 

***

 

 

You follow Sans into the dark cavern looming ahead. You're not sure what to expect. At least, whatever is waiting for you now can't be nearly as bad as the snow storm, you think to yourself.

You hear the sound of rushing water, and look up to see that you're passing under two narrow, lightly trickling towers of water coming from above.

'Are we here? Are we in Waterfall?' You ask Sans, looking around curiously.

'Pretty much,' he tells you. He's ahead of you, so you just stare at the back of his blue parka. 'On the edge of it, I guess. It's kind of a big place.'

'It's very serene,' you try. You hear Sans make a small sound of amusement.

'Yeah, I guess so. Everywhere's got its perks. If you like this, wait til we get to the streams. Those are gonna blow your mind,' he chuckles.

You make a small hum of approval, curiosity filling you. Sans rushes forward suddenly and you pick up your pace to catch up.

'Over here, kid. This is where we'll stop for now.'

There's a wooden hut - more of a stand, really - which Sans is now pointing at. The roof is covered with snow. You decide not to question it.

'I used to use this stand sometimes.' Sans tells you, quietly, as he walks over to it. He raises a hand to touch the side of it, clearly lost in a memory.

'What for?'

'Sellin' hot dogs, mostly. These days no-one really hangs out in Waterfall anymore. I wasn't making much money.'

Sans removes his phone from a pocket, and in a few taps, begins to retrieve items from the Dimensional Box. You watch with delight as various things - sleeping bags, food packages, a camping stove - start to _thwop_ at his feet.

You look around the area. Where you are seems to be situated on some kind of cliff. You notice, a few good feet away from the abandoned hotdog stand, a waterfall bubbling over the edge. You walk over to it and peer over the side (earning a mumbled 'Careful, kid' from Sans); all you see below is darkness. Turning back, you see that Sans has begin to unpack things.

'Sans?'

'Mmm, pal?' Sans doesn't look up, but carries on unrolling sleeping bags.

'What's that big, blue flower thing?'

You'd noticed it just now, the huge, rubbery looking plant only a few yards away from the stand. It glows a luminous light shade of blue.

Sans stops what he's doing, and turns to look at you, still crouching on the floor.

'It's an echo flower. They're everywhere in Waterfall.' Sans turns back to setting up the stove.

'Echo... Flower?' The words taste foreign in your mouth, but a wave of déjà vu smacks you in the face as you say them.

You walk over to it, your curiosity irreversibly piqued. You stand in front of it, bending down to get a better look.

'Why is it called an Echo Flower?' You call over to Sans. You stretch out a timid hand to stroke one of the large, glowing petals. Your finger brushes the flower and--

Flashes. White hot light, burning. You hear the voices of what sounds like hundreds of people, but you can't make out any of the words. It's a jumbled mess of mutterings and mumbles. Blinking hard, the light still shining strongly in your line of vision, you make out the outline your finger still touching the Echo Flower. You try to pull it away, but it feels as if some kind of magnetised force is preventing you from doing so.

The voices are driving you mad. You squint at the flower, it's petals glowing a bright yellow now in the burning light. Amongst the voices, one suddenly stands out to you, as if whispered right into your ear.

_'Howdy!'_

You flinch, and then suddenly it feels as if you're back in the snow storm, like you're being pulled through a wind tunnel. You feel yourself falling backwards, and the voices are silenced. The darkness of Waterfall returns around you.

'Kid?!'

Sans is behind you, his arms around your waist, both of you crumpled on the cavern floor. You see the Echo Flower a few feet in front of you, and realise that Sans must have pulled you away. You both stand up, shakily. You turn to face him. His brow is furrowed with worry, his sockets almost completely dimmed.  
'Are you okay kid? What the hell happened there, di- did you have another one of your flashes?' Sans tone is urgent. He stares at you intently.

'I'm not sure...' Your voice is thick with confusion and disorientation. 'I just touched the flower, and, I heard voices, and there was light everywhere.'

'Did you hear what any of the voices said?' Sans expression is strained with worry, and in his urgency he's raised a hand to grip your arm.

You look at Sans, and you know that telling him the truth would only cause him to worry even more. It's been such a long day, and he's already done so much for you.

'No,' you lie. Sans seems to immediately relax, his grip dropping from your arm. His sockets close over as he sighs.

'Echo Flowers supposedly repeat the last thing they heard up close,' Sans tells you. 'But clearly this one messed up some how...'

He walks over to the flower, and kicks it lightly. As it wobbles, you hear your own voice parroted back to you.

_'Why is it called an Echo Flower?'_

Sans growls and kicks it again, and it wobbles more violently, still repeating your words.

'Dumb flower,' you hear Sans grumble. He walks back over to you.

'I know someone who might be able to shed some light on those flashes of yours,' he tells you. 'But we've got a good few days of travel ahead of us before we'll reach them. If you can manage to survive until then, that is.'

Sans says this as a joke, winking. You feel your stomach clench with anxiety at the idea of _not_ surviving. You feel Sans must see your expression change, as he seems to switch tactics immediately.

'Uh, ya hungry kid? C'mon, let's eat and get some rest.'

 

 

***

 

 

The abandoned hotdog stand made a surprisingly cosy fort. Underneath it's snow-laden roof, Sans had set up a camp of the two sleeping bags, the stove, and food supplies. You notice, with amusement, that in one corner there was also a small bucket. You look at Sans with a raised eyebrow.

'What?! It's for the trash, kid. Jeez.'

You laugh. 'I thought you were suggesting I use it as a--'

'Woooah there, buddy. No way.' Sans is holding up his hands in defence, a blue-tinted blush spread across his cheekbones.

'Humans sure are gross. AND weird,' he adds.

'You drank an entire bottle of ketchup in Grillby's. THAT'S weird,' you laugh.

  
'Pfff, that's nothin', pal,' Sans closes his sockets and poses with mock bravado. 'I once drank FIFTY bottles.'

You pretend to gag, giggling.

'I don't understand,' you say, through laughter. 'Where does it _go_?'

Sans looks confused, his grin faltering.

'Whaddya mean?'

'I mean, like, well y'know... Humans eat stuff, it comes out... You're a skeleton! It has nowhere to go.'

Sans grin returns. 'Monster food doesn't work like human food, kid. It just kinda gets absorbed. Gives you energy through the power of monster magic, or whatever.'

'Oh,' you reply. 'Actually that explains a lot,' you add, giggling bashfully.

'Gross,' Sans concludes, but he's grinning. That carefree, lazy, half-lidded expression he has when he's relaxed and happy and joking around... You realise how much you enjoy seeing him that way. You smile at him with sincerity.

He returns your smile, then coughs slightly, looking away. He motions towards the sleeping bags on the floor with a casual sweep of his arm.

'Take your pick, kid. Then I'll sort us somethin' to eat.'

The sleeping bags are laid out neatly next to each other behind the stand. You take a crossed-legged seat on one of them, eager now for food and warmth. Sans passes you a small dish with some kind of cheese, and a bread roll.

'This is the most normal food I've eaten in this place yet,' you tell him with a chuckle. Sans shrugs.

'Yeah, we do have some 'normal' stuff too, pal. Not everything down here is super weird.' He winks. 'Except you, you're definitely super weird.'

You throw a chunk of your bread roll at him with a 'Hey!'. Sans dodges the bread with seemingly no effort. _Man, for a lazybones, he's got killer reflexes_ , you think.

'Hey, kid.'

'Yeah?'

'I feel like it's only fair that I tell you the whole story about Pap, and why he left. What happened, I mean.'

'Okay.'

Sans looks away from you, his expression weary.

'It's a long story, so prepare yourself, buddo.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo hullo hullo.
> 
> I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. I lost the groove for a bit and then life got in the way, but I'm back with this mega-chapter and there's a peace offering of a little bit of fluff, so please forgive me!
> 
> As always, thank you for your comments/kudos/support. I love writing this story.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

'It's probably best I start from the very beginning.'

Sans takes a swig from a travel-sized ketchup bottle he removes from his pocket and swallows hard. You nod, but say nothing. You know that now is not the time for you to be talking.

'So. It was me that came about first. I say 'came about' because I honestly have no idea how we were born. Just one day, _poof_ , there I was, chubby baby-bones. Pap came later, when I was about 10.' Sans drifts with a memory for a second, chuckling softly. 'He was exactly the same as a kid as he was when we were older. Always happy, curious, goofy. Kinda like you, kid.'

You smile, kindly.

'Except Pap was also kind of a bone-head. Not in a bad way, he wouldn't hurt a fly. He just got himself into trouble a lot, cause he was so innocent and clueless, right? And it was always my job to get him outta whatever mess he'd manage to get into. I liked it like that.'

Your lips are burning with a question, but you hesitate, not wanting to interrupt. Sans notices your expression and gives you a slight nod.

'Go on, pal. I know you're gonna have questions. G'head.'

'Who looked after _you_ when you were small, though?'

'Aha. Good question.' Another swig from the ketchup bottle. 'When I first turned up in Snowdin, all tiny and feeble lookin', I had no-one. I was just there.'

You let out a small gasp. 'That's awful. But you said you had a da--'

'I'm getting to that, kid, hold your horses. So eventually the Snowdin Inn keeper discovered me - she's a real nice lady - and looked after me for a while. But she had enough kids of her own and there was no way she could have managed me in the long run. Then she gets the bright idea that hey - maybe her sister could look after me. So I went to live with the sister and she practically raised me.'

Sans drains the last of the travel-size ketchup and slam-dunks the empty bottle into the metal bucket. He draws out a new bottle from the other coat pocket, earning a smirk from you.

'It was Fliss, wasn't it?' You say, eagerly.

Sans looks up from removing the cap of the new ketchup bottle, his features wide with surprise. They relax into a familiar pleased-looking expression.

'You don't miss a thing, do ya, pal? That's why I like you.'

You blush, going quiet.

'So yeah,' he continues. 'Felicity basically was my foster-mom, if you like. Then when I was 10, and Pap was left on our doorstep, I didn't really need much more looking after. Pap did, though, so I waited until he was around 5 and then I said it was time for us to be looking after ourselves.'

'So you were 15?'

'Yeah. Although monster maturity works a little different to humans. I was basically an adult.'

  
'What about Papyrus?'

'He was still very much a kid - well I mean, he always has been at heart, but, he still _looked_ like a kid. He was still shorter than me.'

'I'm shorter than you, though,' you giggle. 'And I can't be _much_ younger than you.'

Sans grins. 'Yeah, but you're a shortass,' he smirks, winking. 'And no, in the grand scheme of things, you're not. Monsters kind of stop ageing once they reach a certain point. Ever notice how you've not met any 'old' monsters yet?'

You think about it, then shake your head.

'Once we reach our final adult 'forms', iffya like, we just kind of stop ageing. We stop counting the years, too. Some of us have final forms that _do_ look older, but it's pretty rare.'

'So, really, you're a lot older than me?'

'Only if you were gonna be literal about it and count the years. I lost track of those a long time ago, though.'

Sans must see your frustrated expression.

'If it makes you feel better, kid, I stopped ageing at 25. So did Pap. Except he was a whole lot taller than me, so people who met us for the first time assumed he was the older brother. I didn't really do much to convince them otherwise. Eventually it kind of made sense anyway.'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, Pap was always acting like the older sibling at that point. He would get an idea to do something, and I would follow. Mostly because I had to keep him outta trouble, so it was just easier to go along with whatever he wanted to do. He had all these aspirations and things he wanted to achieve. And he was so outgoing, that people just began to assume that he was the over-confident older one, and that I was the slacker with nothing better to do than follow in my big bro's footsteps.'

'When really you were just keeping an eye on him? Because he had no common sense?'

Sans chuckles. 'You got it in one, kid. And Pap was all talk most of the time. Really, he was just a goofball who wanted to be liked and have lots of friends. But some time after the two of us were grown up, he got this idea in his head that he wanted to be a Royal Guardsman.'

'How did that happen?'

'One of the king's guards came into town asking if any of us had seen any humans recently. She patro--'

'She?' You butt in.

'Yeah, she. Undyne her name was. Loud, angry lookin' fish lady. Anyway, she patrolled around Snowdin for about a month, and some how, became friends with Papyrus. Now, for Pap to make a friend without me having to secretly threaten them first was pretty rare. This was even weirder given this Undyne chick was super heavy-going, at least, that's how she seemed to start with. Turns out she liked my brother cause his silliness made her laugh. After they made friends, Pap began to go out with her on her daily patrols. He even bought a 'hero's costume' type thing and started wearing it all the time.'

'Did you make friends with Undyne, too?'

Sans clears his throat. 'Not so much. I didn't see much of my brother whenever she was in town. She had him believe that he had a chance to be in the Royal Guard, told him that she would help him train. One time I had a huge falling out with her. I told her that Pap couldn't do these things, that it was too dangerous for him, he was too innocent and clueless about danger and stuff. Undyne told me that I was holding him back and that I was selfish.'

'And then what happened?' You're on the edge of your sleeping bag.

'I got so angry that I accidentally slammed her against a wall.'

'A-accidentally?'

Sans sighs. 'I didn't realise what I was capable of at the time, but I got so riled up that my powers showed themselves for the first time and I'd never harnessed that kind of power before, so I lost control.'

You blink slowly. 'What... What powers? Your teleporting?'

Sans finishes the second ketchup bottle, and throws it at the bucket. He misses this time, but you watch as the bottle suddenly floats upwards, and snapping your head back to Sans, you see he's outstretched one hand to seemingly control the bottle. You notice how one socket is dim, and the other is burning a bright blue. Your mouth drops open, but San's expression is casual as he drops the bottle into the trash bucket and lowers his hand. His sockets return to their normal white pinpricks.

You're in complete awe, speechless as Sans stretches out his hands together, popping the bones with a grunt.

'I don't use them very often these days.' He states, simply.

'Can.. What else can you do?'

Sans glosses over this question. 'Ah, a bunch of boring stuff,' he waves a bony hand in dismissal. 'Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. So I shove Undyne against this wall, right? She's completely fine cause she's wearing this huge ridiculous suit of armour, but Pap storms in shouting, all hyped up about some robot he's seen on TV. He takes one look at Undyne crumpled on the floor, and one look at me lookin' all sweaty and angry and confused, and he freaks out. Tells us there's no need for us to fight over him, that he loves us both, etc. So there I am, having already lost my cool once and done something I had no idea I could do, and now I'm worried it could happen again and I might hurt Pap, right? So I get outta there.'

'Where did you go?'

'Well, at this point me and Pap were living in our place. Where you stayed with me. So I head over to see Fliss. But when I get there, she looks anything but happy to see me. She looks sick to her stomach worried about something. She tells me that a couple of weeks ago she got a letter from someone claiming to be our dad, and that she's been putting off telling us.'

'What a dramatic day for you,' you sigh softly.

'Ha, you're telling me, pal. So yeah, she tells me she found this letter on her doorstep, just like when we found Pap. The letter explains how the person writing it was grateful to her for looking after his sons, that he had no choice but to leave us somewhere safe etc etc, and that he knows we are doing well, yadda yadda. At this point I'm thinkin' this is total BS. I mean if this was a genuine letter from our genuine dad, then the fact he ditched us kind of makes him an asshole, right? So an already shitty day is suddenly getting a lot worse for me.'

You can tell Sans' is getting a little riled up at the memory. Partly because you've never heard him swear this much. Mostly because you notice his hands have clenched into tight fists.

'So this letter claims that Daddy Dearest is some big shot down in who-knows-where, that his life was too dangerous for us two kids so that's why he sent us away. Then this letter tells me that now he's in trouble, it looks like it's gonna be the end for him, so he's writing to us to say he's sorry that he didn't get to see us grow up. It sounded like a dyin' man trying to clear a guilty conscience, I tell ya.'

'What did you do?'

Sans lets out a long exhalation, rubbing his forehead with a bony palm, his sockets closed.

'The stupidest thing I could have done. I ran back home and showed Pap. Whereas my reaction had been 'screw this guy, we didn't need him then and we don't need him now,' Pap's reaction was exactly as you might predict. Cheered on by Undyne, he came to the idea that it was his duty to go and save this absent dad of ours. Undyne said she even recognised the signature and knew the guy and would take Pap to him. I think she was just trying to help, but at the time I saw it as a complete smack in the face.'

'Who was it signed from?'

'Just three initials. 'W.D.G', which made it even shadier in my opinion. But what I thought didn't matter anymore. Pap's mind was made up and along with the encouragement from Undyne, there was nothing I could do to stop him. I begged him not to go at first, and then I tried saying I would go with him, but he refused that, saying someone needed to stay to make sure Fliss was alright and that anyway, he had Undyne with him. Eventually he agreed that he would sleep on it, but when I got up in the morning, he'd already gone.'

Something flashes in your memory. 'The note... The note on the fridge,' you whisper.

'Exactly,' Sans says, sadly. 'That note was the last I heard of him. I haven't seen Undyne since either. I've no idea what happened to either of them. For a while, after he left, I stayed hopeful, thinking that they'd get nowhere in their mission, give up and turn tail back home to Snowdin. Or a at least, that Pap would try and get in contact with me, knowing that I'd worry. But after waiting for weeks, and then months, with _nothing_ , I kinda gave up. More time went on and I just kind of stopped caring about anything. It wasn't my proudest moment.'

'Did you think about going after him?'

'I did. But unlike Undyne, I'd never been anywhere except Snowdin at that point. I thought at least if she knew where she was going, that Pap would be okay. But I knew that I would just have gotten totally lost. Eventually I did try looking for them. By that point I had begun to figure out my powers a bit more, so I went out on daily teleportation scouts around the Underground. I set up several sentry stations, just like this one.' Sans taps the wood on the side of the stand.

'I would sit at one for a few hours, hoping for someone to walk past that might know something, might have seen Pap or Undyne. Then I'd teleport to another one and do the same for another few hours. At first, no-one would talk to me, cause I just looked like a weirdo in a hut, right? So I came up with the idea of selling hot dogs. It looked normal and was easy. Then as I was handing over the goods, I'd casually drop into conversation that I was looking for a goofy skeleton guy and a freaky fish lady. No matter how well I described them, no-one had any idea who I was talking about. Eventually I gave up.'

  
'So you never really travelled the Underground properly?'

'Nah. Just teleported and hoped for the best. Most of the time I was teleporting blind, which is not the smartest thing to do. It's hard to explain, but I'd just push myself out there and see where I landed. Then once I'd been somewhere, I could remember how to teleport back there again. I was too scared of getting lost travelling by foot, and, if I'm being honest, I was kinda lonely. I was used to doing everything with Pap. Wanderin' around the Undergound by myself on what felt like a hopeless case didn't seem like an option at the time. I felt really bad about how much of a coward I was, so that's when I started spending a _lot_ of time in Grillby's.'

Sans looks abashed. You don't press him, but he carries on anyway.

'I was a mess. I would sleep all day, drink all night, be carried home by Grillby. Rinse, repeat. Fliss tried to talk to me at one point - hell, all my friends did. No-one could get through to me. I ignored anyone who tried to help me. I didn't see the point of trying anymore. I gave up selling hot dogs, I gave up on hoping that Pap might come home, I gave up on myself.'

'What happened?'

'A lot of time passed. Gradually I started to ease up a bit, and then Grillby started to refuse to serve me anything. Well, he got me on to the ketchup instead of anything... Anything else. So once I wasn't drinking no more, I was able to sort myself out a bit. I started spending a lot of time just out in the forest, walking around. I didn't like being in the house by myself, and I didn't want to talk to many people. So I do this for a while. Go out, walk around, come home. I do that for a long time, every day. And then something great happened.' Sans smiles.

You look eager, excited for the story to take a happier turn. 'What was it?'

'I found you.'

It hits you like a shiver of electricity in your veins. The way that Sans is looking at you, his face full of genuine and sincere gratitude; it makes you feel something that you can only think to describe as warm and cold at the same time.

'I found you, and you woke up something in me that hadn't been there for a long time.'

'What was it?' Your voice is barely audible.

'Hope.'

There's a long pause, and you both smile at each other. After all that Sans has told you, and after all that you now know he's been through, something has changed in you. Something you felt slightly before, but that now is a non-negotiable decision that has been silently made for you. Something now is telling you that you never want to let this skeleton out of your life.

'And, also,' Sans starts again. 'I had someone to tell my bad jokes to again, which I think was clearly the more important thing,' he laughs, his voice sounding a little strained with emotion.

You laugh with him, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You remember something you wanted to ask earlier.

'So, this 'W.D.G'. You have no idea who he is?'

Sans groans a little, looking to one side, a hand at the back of his head.

'Yeeeeahh, well... I didn't when we got the letter. Obviously in the time that passed between then and now, I did my research.'

'And?'

'So far as I can tell, the initials are those of one of the Royal Scientists. I found the same initials on several books in the Librarby. All books on scientific discoveries and the like, and all with the Royal crest on them. So I'm guessing, if we can find the current Royal Scientist, they might be able to shed some light on A) who this guy is and B) where the hell they are. Also, they might be able to tell you what's going on with your flashes, I figure.'

You nod. 'So the plan is to find where the Royal Scientist is?'

'You got it.'

'Okay, we can do this.' You punch a fist down into your other open palm, feeling determined. Sans grins. You wait the obligatory pause, but when Sans doesn't say anything, you look at him with confusion.

'No joke? You're not gonna make a joke?'

Sans laughs. 'I'm waaaay too tired for that, kid. I just spilled my guts out to ya and now you want entertaining, too? Jeez kid, you're brutal.'

You giggle softly, then yawn, realising just how tired you are as well.

'Yeah,' Sans nods. 'I agree, good point well made, pal. Time for some Z's.'

The pair of you settle into your sleeping bags, and Sans turns off the lantern, leaving only the distant glow of the echo flower tinting everything in a faint blue light. There's plenty of room under the stand, but somehow, you've ended up bunched together in the middle anyway, sleeping bags pressed together lightly. You lie on your back, staring upwards, just about making out the shape of the stand roof. You listen to the sound of the waterfall nearby. _Peaceful_ , you think.

'Hey,' you whisper. 'Sans?'

'Mmm?' His reply is a sleepy grunt.

'Thanks for telling me everything, I know it must have been hard for you. I promise we'll find him, I know we will.'

You hear the _swish_ of the sleeping bag fabric as Sans turns and rolls over to face you. You roll to the side to do the same. There's a space between you, now that you've shifted slightly; but it's only a few inches wide.

'I love your determination, kid,' Sans tells you. His eye-lights have dimmed with tiredness, but they still shine brightly amidst the darkness of the cavern. You take comfort in the sight of them.

A few hours later, you wake up briefly, and realise that the two of you must have fallen asleep facing each other like that. You also notice that Sans' arm had stretched out into the gap between you, and so has yours. Your hand is resting on top of his bony palm. You hear Sans' light noises of sleep, and there are no lights to be seen, so you know he must be asleep. You grip his hand properly, entwining your fingers together, thinking for a second that you feel the slightest grip back in response. And so you stay like that, hands clasped together, and you let yourself settle back down into a comfortable slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness me, it's been a while! Sorry for the wait, and for those of you who are here after waiting patiently for me to update all these months, thank you. Your kudos and comments did not go unnoticed.
> 
> I have the next few chapters already drafted out and part-written, so I promise more regular updates are to follow. Let's get back to business.
> 
> Enjoy.

_***_

 

 

_It's raining. Or is it? Water is dripping from above you. There's a halo of light surrounding you. You are soaked through - the ends of your hair are heavy and damp. You can't make out anything around you, except the small circle of light you are in the centred in. The floor is hard, and cold, and rocky. Slippery, too, you realise as you try to step forward. You ease slowly out of the light. All that you can see is darkness. You hear a barely coherent whisper, unable to make out the words._

_'Sans?' You call out. 'Sans, are you there? Is that you?'_

_You strain to listen. The whisper seems to hiss at you from every direction. Moisture creeps up the back of your neck._

_'Frrssssssssssssss...'_

_'Sans?' You try again._

_'FRRRRRRISSSSSSSSSSSSSSKKKKK....'_

_'Please! Sans, where are you?! I'm scared!'_

_The voice is suddenly hot and loud in your ears, your head, everywhere. It's overcoming your senses completely. The words it hisses vibrate in your nerves and veins._

_'Frissssssskkkkk.... Your family... Your friendsss...'_

_'Please!' Your heart is pounding against your ribcage. You can feel nothing but fear. 'Please, just leave me alone!'_

_Your hands rush up to your ears, clawing at the sides of your face, your eyes scrunched together. You scream to try and drown out this all-consuming voice._

_'You'll never find themmmm...'_

_Your fingernails dig painfully into your cheeks. 'NO!' you yell. You groan in pain and frustration. 'YOU'RE WRONG!'_

_'Unlesssss you do things MY way, Frisssk... You can say goodbye to them all!' The voice laughs, a manic, high pitched cackle. It seems to be never ending._

_'PLEASE! Leave me alone! Please... Please...' You collapse to the floor, huddled together, rocking slightly. 'Please... Please...'_

 

 

'Ple....ase... Mrfff... Please...'

You feel something hard gripping your shoulders, shaking you gently.

'Kid?! Kid, it's me.'

'Sans... Please...' You murmur.

'Kid! I'm here, I'm here. Open your eyes.'

You comply, slowly. You're still in your sleeping bag. The smell and sounds of Waterfall return to your senses, and you can just about make out the soft orange light of the lantern not too far away. Sans is leaning over you, his hands clutching your shoulders. His expression is a mixture of concerned and... Something else. He almost looks embarrassed. Your heart is still beating fiercely. Your brain is a complete fog. You groan as you try to sit up. Relief and realisation take over - it was just a dream.

'Urrrghhhh...' Your head is pounding. You rub your eyes, trying to erase the nightmare.

'You okay, pal?'

Glancing at Sans, you smile weakly. 'Yeah, think so,' you manage.

He lets go of your shoulders and scoots back. 'I wasn't sure what was wrong with you, Frisk,' he admits. 'I mean I figured you were just dreaming, but then you started saying my name a lot, and you started sweatin' like crazy and shaking and saying 'please' a whole bunch and, a-and...'

Sans looks awkward. There's a hint of blue-toned blush donning his cheek bones as he bashfully rubs the back of his head, avoiding eye contact with you. You blink slowly, not sure why he's as embarrassed as he is.

'I had a nightmare,' you tell him. 'It was just a bad dream.' Your voice is a little rough. You try to clear your throat of the morning croak, coughing a little.

Sans' white pin pricks glide slowly back to focus on you. He seems frozen and rigid with slight awkwardness. You can't help but giggle at his expression.

'O-ohh!' He breathes out, finally. His sockets close as he grins, then chuckles. 'Yeah, kid, I knew that.' He flaps a bony hand at you in carefree dismissal.

You can't help but smile. What a goofball, you think.

'You... You're alright though, right?' Sans is looking at you, concerned again now. 'Did you... See anything?'

You shake your head. 'No. Just heard a voice.' You shift in your sleeping bag. Your shirt is clinging to your back, damp with sweat. You feel the sudden urge to be clean, shuddering a little.

'What voice?'

You shrug. 'I don't know. It was creepy. Like it was in my head, I couldn't escape it. It told me that I'd never find my family or friends.'

Sans frowns. 'That's rough, kid.'

'Yeah,' you agree. 'It told me to do things it's way, or I wouldn't find them.'

Sans looks at you, his skeletal features contorted with worry. You feel tears begin to prick your eyes at the memory of the voice's threat. _It_   _was just a dream,_  you repeat to yourself. _Not real. Just a dream. Why am I such a crybaby?_

Sans is staring at you. He looks pained. You blink and tears escape from your lids and glide down your hot cheeks.

'Aw, no, kid - Frisk, don't cry,' Sans clambers over to you again. You look at your hands, working your thumb over your palm with the stress of trying not to cry, and the nightmare, and everything else. You feel bones, cool to the touch, rest against your cheek. Sans' hand. It gently urges you to raise your head. You do so, looking at him with wet, bleary eyes.

'Nooo, no, kid, c'mon. You said yourself, just a dream, right?'

'What if I don't find them?' Your voice is meek, barely audible. You feel fresh tears bubble and burst from the corners of your eyes.

Sans looks exasperated, glancing around, seemingly struggling for the right words. 'Kid I can't tell you how much I hate to see you cry,' he manages. 'It's like a punch to my guts. If I had any,' he tries.

You giggle through sobs. Encouraged, he continues.

'I mean, I got a pretty big gut on me. Some would say I'm fat, but I'd argue I'm just big boned,' he grins.

You laugh again, wiping away tears. You playfully poke him in the stomach, your finger squashing into the folds of the hoodie he's wearing. 'Too many hotdogs,' you mumble, smiling.

Sans chuckles. 'Hey, just means there's more of me to love, right?'

'Yeah.' You sniff. 'I think so.'

For a heartbeat, you stare at one another, unmoving. Sans' chuckles trail off nervously. You glance away, and the moment passes.

'We're gonna find out what happened to you, kid. I promise,' Sans tells you, his voice soft and sincere. 'I feel it in my bo-'

'In your bones, I know,' you cut him off, throwing him a grateful smile. 'Heard that one before.'

'I only got so much material, buddy. Throw me a bone,' Sans grins. 'C'mere,' he adds, before pulling you into a hug.

Your natural reaction is to tense up; your body going rigid for a moment, before relaxing, finally. Sans has his arms wrapped around you, and you let yours curl around him, your head against his chest. His hoodie smells of Snowdin, and Cinnamon Bunnies. You feel the indent of his ribcage, pressing against your cheek from underneath the fabric. You briefly wonder what it looks like, what _he_  looks like, underneath his baggy clothes. You shake off the thought - like a skeleton, of course.

'Thankf youff,' you say against his chest, your voice muffled by hoodie. You feel his hold on you loosen as he pulls back to look at you.

'I got ya, kid. Always.'

'I'm so glad I met you,' you admit to him quietly. 'I'd be frozen solid still in Snowdin forest if I hadn't.'

'I dunno about that, pal. You're pretty tough.'

'You saving me seems to be our usual routine now,' you sigh. 'I wish I wasn't such a wimp.'

'Hey,' Sans addresses you, alert now. 'Don't say that kid. You're not that at all. You're in The Underground, it's a dangerous place for humans. And anyhow, you've saved me in so many other ways. Ways I can't even explain.'

You feel your face warm up from blushing. Sans looks over you with glowing sockets, his wide smile beaming. He pulls away from the embrace and lifts himself up with an ' _ooof'._ He stretches, cracking his bones. You watch him pull his parka back on and zip it up. You notice, with enjoyment, how fluffy the fur around the hood looks.

'We, uh, we better get moving if we wanna make progress today, buddy.' Sans is rolling up his sleeping bag. You yawn and stretch. Down in Waterfall, it's so dark that it definitely doesn't feel like morning.

You nod. You slither your way out of your sleeping bag, zipping it up and then rolling it into a bundle, before handing it to Sans. It _fwoop_ s away with a click of his phone. All the way back to that Dimensional Box, so far away now, back in safe, comforting Snowdin.

As you reach around to locate your boots, sweater and parka, your mind trails back to the last few days. A memory of a conversation pushes its way to the forefront of your mind.

'Sans?' You start.

'Mmm?'

'What did you mean before when you said that no humans have made it out of The Underground 'alive'?'

Sans' figure tenses slightly as he fastens his backpack. He stands up and swings the backpack over his shoulder. You watch as he pats his parka pockets and glances around; you assume to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. _He's stalling,_  you think.

'Sans...?'

He turns to look at you, his grin faltering with faux nonchalance.

'Nothing, kid. Nothing. Just somethin' I said. I say a lot of things, I'm a skeleton of many words, what can I say?' He shrugs with attempted casualness. 'Let's get goin', you're gonna love the route today, oh boy--'

'Sans.' You step over to him slowly, and place a hand on one of his parka-puffy arms. It's such a thick coat that you feel no trace of the bone underneath. His expression becomes subtly panic-stricken; his jaw just a little clenched, a bead of sweat on his cranium. His gaze diverts from your own.

'Just tell me, please?' You try, tightening your grip ever so slightly.

You watch another two droplets of sweat adorn Sans' skull. The two white pinpricks that you've become so used to finally return back to you, and Sans closes his sockets as he sighs.

'Humans are a bit of a rare... Commodity, I guess you could say.'

'You mean the monsters eat us?!' The hand that was so tightly gripping Sans arm whips up to cover your shocked open mouth.

Sans' sockets fly open as he looks appalled at you.

'What?! No! No, hell naw... Jeez,' he chuckles slightly. 'I'd of eaten you alive already if that was the case,' he smirks and winks at you, and you let out a soft giggle. 'No, I mean... Well, you're valuable.'

'Valuable?' You repeat back to him.

'Yeah. Or I guess, I should say, your _souls_  are.'

'Okay, now I'm even more confused.'

Sans steps out from under the sentry station. You don't move, but you wait for him to explain.

'A human soul contains much stronger power than any monster could create. With it, a monster could harness its energy, and use it to do all kinds of stuff. Namely getting the hell outta here.'

'Out of Waterfall?'

Sans chuckles. 'Nah, kid. Out of The Underground. You'd need a bunch of 'em, but human souls are about the only thing strong enough to break through the barrier.'

'So can I give you my soul?'

Sans turns and glances at you with wide, surprised sockets, before crumbling into loud, full laughter. He beams at you.

'Kid, trust you to just offer like that. Oh man,' he laughs again, ' _Give_ me your soul, that's the best thing I'll hear all day.'

You frown. 'Why couldn't I?' You rush to pull your boots and coat on, then stomp out from under the wooden stand to join Sans on the path forward. He's still chuckling softly. 'I don't get why it's so funny!'

Sans stops laughing and turns to you. 'Kid,' he starts, tone more serious now. 'To get your soul, I'd have to kill ya. And I'd never wanna do that, not ever.'

'Oh.' You stare at him, still not fully comprehending. 'Okay so, what? All the other humans in The Underground got killed for their souls?'

'First of all, there's not been that many of ya down here. Second, not every monster can recognise a human when they see one, and even the ones that can still might not wanna slice you open for your soul,' Sans explains. 'But yeah, things didn't go so great for the few other humans that wound up falling down here. One way or another they ended up getting caught by Undy--'

'They fell? You can fall down here? Wait, did you say Undyne--'

'Woah kid, kid. Calm down.' Sans waves a skeleton palm at you. 'It's my guess they fell, I don't really know. No-one does. And yeah, Undyne. It was her job to search The Underground for any humans that might have ended up down here. She was in charge of taking their souls to Asgore - uh, The King - so that they could be used to destroy the barrier keeping us here.'

'So... So that's why it could be so dangerous for me in The Underground. I'm rare goods.'

'I guess you could say that.' Sans shrugs. 'But you got nothin' to worry about. I ain't seen Undyne in years, remember? Not since she went off with Pap. And you're safe as long as you're with me.'

You smile. 'Pfff,' you giggle. 'A lazy-bones, knuckle-head like you surely couldn't protect me from _everything_.'

You notice a tiny glint of blue in Sans' sockets as he grins full and wide.

'Kid,' he starts, voice rumbling and low. 'You have no idea.'

 

 

***

 

  
'Just one more?' You plead.

'Kid, if you stop to listen to every damned Echo Flower in Waterfall, we are never gonna get anywhere today. Get those boots movin' will ya?'

You pout at Sans, just a little. He sighs at you and grins.

'Just stay close, pal.'

Each Echo Flower you listen to has something new to tell you. Conversations from the past; the whisperings and murmurings from monsters you try to imagine in your mind. You insisted on checking each one, in turn, just in case. But none have anything to tell you that was of much real use.

Sans has begun to walk ahead of you, as you scurry to each Flower, crouching for a moment to listen before you hurry to the next. Eventually you reach a point on the path where there are no more Echo Flowers ahead of you. You hum with frustration. You wanted more answers.

Your hands absentmindedly stuff themselves into your jeans pockets in defeat, as you kick the dirt underfoot in a childish display of dissatisfaction. A thumb grazes over something in your pocket, and you pluck it out to inspect. You smile. It's the post-it note Sans had left you on the fridge, that first morning after the day he'd found you. You eye the blue-crayoned scrawl with fondness.

'C'mon kid!' Sans calls to you from a little further ahead. 'I don't want you gettin' lost.'

'Okay!' You rush to shove the note back into your pocket, and run to catch up with Sans. He eyes you with half-lidded amusement when you make it to his side.

'So obedient,' he muses, grinning at you. 'What took ya so long?'

'Look,' you start, reaching back into your jeans pocket. 'I had this the whole ti--'

But your hand pulls out nothing. You check the other side, groping to find the note, but it's not in any of your pockets. You frown.

'Hold on, I think I dropped something. Be right back!'

'Kid, wha-'

You dash off before Sans can protest, backtracking your steps and scanning the cold ground for the note. With only the waxy blue glow of the Echo Flowers to light your way, you begin to worry the post-it might be lost for good. That is, until, you spot a corner of tell-tale yellow paper stuck to an Echo Flower petal.

'There you are,' you murmur, bending down to retrieve the note. As your fingers pluck it from the petals, the Echo Flower wobbles and bucks at your touch. You pocket the note, and the flower begins to whisper its message.

_Where oh where could that child be...?_

'...What?' You mutter. This wasn't what it had said before. The voice sounds eerily familiar.

_I've been looking all over for them..._

Your mind strains, as you try to search your fading memories for any trace of that voice. _Why can't I place it?_ , you think.

_Hee hee hee. THAT'S not true. She'll find another kid, and instantly forget about you._

The voice has morphed, into a grating, high-pitched cackle. You shiver.

_Y̸o̶u'll N͞E̷VER s͝e̴e ̀h͠er ̵aga͠íń._

Your breathing quickens as you stare at the Echo Flower, fists clenched, heart racing. There was no mistake; it had been the same voice as the one in your nightmare. You kick the flower, watching it bobble and sway violently. It remains silent.

Her? Who was 'her'? Your mind is a scramble as confusion and mixed thoughts flood your consciousness. A memory... So far now... A door...

'Frisk?'

You jump, yelping when you realise Sans has materialised right next to you. He's looking at you with the same concerned expression that you've grown to expect now. _Why am I always such a burden,_  your mind asks you. _Always such a worry to him. Can't do anything but get myself into trouble._

You shake your head to free yourself from the unbidden thought, but the voice continues. _No good to anyone... Just a wimp and a crybaby... Pathetic..._

Your hands reach to clutch your face as you groan, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

'No...' You grunt through gritted teeth. 'Ahhgh. Stop.'

You feel Sans' hands on your arms, and you think he's trying to talk to you, but the rushing and gurgling sounds filling your ears make it impossible for you to hear him. From behind your closed eyelids, your minds-eye view floods with yellow, burning into you. You hear that same manic laugh, the sound that had haunted you in your dream, and a voice seems to vibrate within you, filling your senses with its words.

   
H̟̺͉͔̞̝̘̕ ͙̦̮̱O̹̻͚̭̘ ̡̦̞͖͍W͏̬̭͚̭ ̮͍̣͜D̜̻̥̮ ̷̫͓̭̪͍̟̙Y,̻͇̥̥͜ ̼ ͈̯͘ ̷̙̻ ̲͓̣ ̨̻̟̲F̱̝̝ͅ ̼̭R ̖͚̫̤͟ͅIͅ S̠̲̻̝ ̨͚͙K̜

 

 

...And then everything around you, all that there is, turns to darkness and black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well hey there! It's been a hot minute and a half since I last showed my face in these here parts, hasn't it? 
> 
> So it's been almost a year(!) since I last updated this story and I highly doubt anyone's even left around to read this anymore, but here's an update anyway! I'm back in town and determined to get this story finished now. Back in the swing of things. 
> 
> For those of you that stuck around, enjoy.

You open your eyes, slowly and bleary with confusion. You've no idea where you are. It's dark, and cold; the ground you find yourself on is damp and jagged with wet rock. Feeling around carefully, you pull yourself to your feet, squinting to try and make out anything in the fog of dim light. You step cautiously forward.

As you walk, you notice a glimmer of light ahead, trickling down from above. With each step closer, you feel the light beckoning you, and soon you become aware of the flowers surrounding you. Hundreds, everywhere; small, delicate yellow flowers, almost golden in their shine and lustre. You notice how still they are, calm. All are still, save for one single flower. You watch the single moving flower bobbing jauntily from side to side, and on further inspection, you are taken aback to discover it smiling at you.

'Howdy!' the flower addresses you, grinning with at you with a small, pinched face centred on its capitulum. You eye it carefully.

'It's me again, Flowey! Flowey the Flowwww-errrrr,' it sing-songs at you. It scrunches its features into a frown when you fail to respond. 'What, you don't remember me?'

You shake your head. 'Sorry,' you add, meekly.

'Golly! You must be so confused!' It giggles. 'You've been here before, don't you remember?'

'No,' you tell Flowey. 'I don't.'

'Well, I'll be darned! Don't you remember falling? And then meeting little old me right here in this spot?'

'...Falling?'

'Yup! You fell from up there!' Flowey tilts his head up to signal the source of the light above you. You squint, but you can't make anything out except the crack of bright light, way up high.

'I fell... Into The Underground?'

Flowey looks for a moment to be losing his patience, quickly smoothing over his expression before he speaks.

'You sure did!' He agrees, chirpily.

'I'm... I'm sorry I don't remember you,' you apologise. 'I've lost a lot of my memories.'

'Silly Frisk!' Flowey giggles. 'Sometimes it's better to forget things.'

Your eyes narrow.

'How do you know my name?'

'W-what?' Flowey's composure seems to crumble as his eye twitches slightly.

'My name. You called me Frisk. I didn't get that name until I met Sans.'

'Don't be silly! We're friends, Frisk!'

'No,' your voice is heavy with adrenaline. 'No, I would have remembered meeting you again, if I had met you, after I got the name Frisk, you-- how, how do you know my name?'

Flowey's face is contorted with irritation.

'I know the names of all of my friends,' he insists, his voice monotone.

'Where exactly am I, anyway? Why have you brought me here?!'

Flowey cackles with laughter. 'Foolish _Frisk_ ,' he smirks, apparently loosing all pretence of friendliness. 'You think I don't know what you've been up to since we first met?'

'Wha... What?'

Flowey glares at you. 'I see what you're doing. Trying to protect yourself by making _friends_. Have you forgotten our deal?!'

'I don't know what you're talking abou--'

'Don't play dumb with me, human!' Flowey hisses, his face morphing, eyes dark and mouth sharp. 'You're even more stupid than I thought if you think you can defy me. You've got no chance of finding your family without help from _me_.'

'I don't understand, I don't remember!' Panic begins to flood your veins.

'----Lie to me all you want, human,' Flowey snarls at you. The darkness has begun to creep around you.

'---But just remember...---'

You feel the air tighten, and your eyesight begins to black out.

 

'Y̬͓͂̋̋ͣ̾̽͜Ô͇̓̈́̔ͨ͐ͭU̝̦͋ͦͧ̐̈́͘ͅR̘͕͍͙ͮͤͦ̍́ ̨͂̓͆̇ͤ̊S̠̜̹͌O̤̼̔̽̈̋̈U̸̼͓̼̘͈͐ͨͮ͑ͩ̇̂L̼̼̹͓͉̯ ̘̣̆̀ͅI̷͎̳̊S̰̖̹̮͂̾ͧ̕ ̖͓͈̣͇͂̆ͩͤ̽̍M̅̾ͥͫ̾͂̕İ̠̟͌ͩ͌͝N̝̩͇̖͕̊́Ë͖̲̊̂͂̓́

 

And then nothingness, once again, consumes you.

  
***

  
You feel a cold, hard force pressed against your back. You stretch out your hands to feel it around you, and realise with disorientation that it's the floor. The distant trickling sound of running water floats back to you, and when you open your eyes, it's confirmed - you're back in Waterfall. You sit up, dazed, head heavy with the echo of Flowey’s taunting.

‘Jeez, kid. I'm gonna have to start keeping you on a leash, soon.’

You feel a trickle of sweat run down your neck and swallow hard.

‘Sans, it's a… it's a flower,’ you try, your voice thick and course.

‘Well duh, kid,’ Sans laughs and rubs the back of his skull. ‘I think I know an Echo Flower when I see o—‘

‘No,’ you cut him off. ‘This… nightmare, I’m having, and the other time I heard voices. It's some kind of monster.’  
Sans begins to stare at you intently, his grin faltering.

‘It's a monster shaped like a flower,’ you continue. ‘It acts all friendly but then it gets all mean, and, and…’ Your head is buzzing, and you squeeze your eyes tight, hand clutched to your forehead.

‘It tried to threaten me, it said I’d never find my family, it… it said that my soul belonged to it.’

The memories of the encounter begin to fade and ebb away from you, your thoughts beginning to clear.

‘I don't think it likes me,’ you add, meekly.

You look up at Sans. His expression is like you've never seen before on him - his grin has morphed into a grimace, teeth gritted, and you notice a luminous electric blue ring of light in his left socket. Fists clenched, body tense, he seems on the verge of rage. For the slightest second, the blue-tinted socket seems to spark a hint of something… Was that a flame?

‘Whatever it was,’ his voice almost a snarl, ‘I’m not gonna let it hurt you Frisk. No way in hell.’

You stand up, shakily, and Sans grabs your arm to steady you.

‘Careful there pal.’ He says this softly, but you can tell he's still on edge somewhat. You'd make a lighthearted joke, but in all honesty, you're exhausted. Not everything can be covered up and recovered from with bad puns.

‘Let’s get outta here. Waterfall ain't treatin’ us as well as I’d hoped,’ Sans mutters.

‘Mhmm,’ comes your feeble agreement.

  
***

It was quiet. Too quiet. Creepily quiet.

You and Sans had spent the last… however long it had been, walking in almost pure silence. Not a joke or conversation to be had. Sans had maintained his tense mood since the last encounter with the Echo Flower, and you hadn't felt much like being a conversational wiz-kid either. So you'd walked. Down dark paths, past glowing plants with bulbous lamps, feeling the damp and drip of the Waterfall caverns with every step. Sans had walked in front, setting the pace, and you’d kept up just behind him. Every now and then he'd uttered a check up, a quiet ‘All good, kid?’ or a monotone ‘Not long till we’re outta here now.’ But other than that, you'd spent the stretch with nothing but your own footsteps and the ambient watery sounds of the environment to serve as your ‘entertainment’.

You allow yourself to get lost in your own thoughts. Images, blurry and fragmented, intrusive and unbidden, run through your mind. Flowey… Papyrus… somehow, it must be connected. You were sure of it.

A damp chill had begun to seep and crawl through the layers of your parka and jacket, settling on your skin. You shiver and rub your arms, sniffling a little. You wonder how much longer it is until you’ll be free from Waterfall. _I hope it's somewhere warm next_ , you think to yourself.

Breathing in the dewy air of the caves has taken its toll on you, and you cough a little, feeling the sickly cold moisture heavy on your chest. You sniff.

‘Yeesh, kid. You’re sniffling up a storm back there,’ Sans retorts, still sounding a touch downtrodden. He turns, looks you up and down, and sighs.

‘Ahh, sorry pal. I promise our next route is much less…’ he gestures with an arm at the surroundings while he struggles to find the right words. ‘… _This_ ,’ he settles on.

You smile and nod.

‘C’mon. It's really not that much further,’ he tries.

‘You've been saying that for hours,’ you reply, voice nasal with your stuffy sinuses.

Sans sighs.

‘I know.’ He says, simply. He turns back around, and starts off again. You follow.

You begin to worry about Sans. He doesn't seem his usual self at all, and you begin to wonder if it's something you did. Maybe he's beginning to regret the mission, maybe he regrets meeting you at all… You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts. There's nothing left to be done but to keep walking and hope for better.

 

***

 

‘You're gonna need to change.’

‘Huh?’

‘You're gonna need to change clothes,’ repeats Sans.

You’ve reached the edge of a narrow, dark path. Sans has promised that the exit to Waterfall lies just at the end of the cramped tunnel that lies in front of you.

‘Huh?’ You say again, feeling like an idiot.

‘You’ll be too hot in what you got on now, kid. Trust.’

You're still shivering from the chill of the caves. The idea of taking off even a single layer sends a mild panic through your veins.

You stare at Sans, unbelieving. You notice how the features of his skull still seem dulled with… you can't quite tell exactly. Dismay? Frustration? Apathy?

‘Are you oka—‘

‘I've got stuff you can change into,’ Sans cuts you off, whipping out the phone from his pocket and mashing buttons. Bundles wrapped in brown paper begin to _thwippp_ at his feet.

‘I wasn't sure what you'd wanna wear,’ he continues, monotone, avoiding eye contact, seemingly locked into tapping codes into the phone. ‘So I just got a bunch of stuff. Some of it Fliss had lying around, and some of it…’

_Thwooop_. More bundles.

‘…Some of it is stuff from when me and Pap were kids. Should fit you fine. Have a look and see what you wanna wear.’

You hesitate, unsure.

Sans unzips his parka and slips it off, followed by his hoodie jacket. He stands now in just a white t-shirt and his black shorts. It's the first time you've actually seen his arms exposed like this; you can't help but find it fascinating. You notice how the two long bones that form his forearms seem to widen and bulge out slightly, inkeeping with the rest of his ‘big boned’ structure. You’re trying not to stare, but you can't help but wonder what the bones feel like. Are they warm? Soft?

Sans is crouching on the cavern floor, folding his now discarded coat and jacket. You notice with a slight jolt of surprise that his ‘mouth’ - if you can call it that - is shut. As in, his seemingly permanent toothy grin is closed over, the ‘lips’ of his impossible and reality defying skull meeting together to form a tight line. It's unsettling; it makes no sense; but mostly, it's bizarre. Sans without his grin is barely Sans at all.

He looks up at you, catching you in your staring. You immediately divert your gaze, cheeks flushing hotly with the blush of being caught. After a beat, you look back to him. He's still just looking at you blankly.

‘Have a look through, kid. We better keep movin’. Get changed and we’ll go.’

He gently tosses three bundles towards you, then stands up with a stretch and a crack of bones.

You look at the bundles, then back to Sans, blinking.

‘I’ll, uh… go wait over there,’ he adds, coughing bashfully.

Sans backtracks the path a little. You laugh as you notice him pretending to find something incredibly interesting about the cave wall.

You undo the bundles and assess the options in front of you. There's a few t shirts, a dress (that must be from Fliss. You giggle, imagining Sans wearing it), some shorts, assorted shoes, a small leather belt with a delicate skull shaped buckle.

When you're satisfied with your outfit, you call out to Sans.

‘Done!’

He turns to face you. You've settled on your favourite of all the t-shirt options - a soft, cotton shirt, which is a little oversized on your petite frame. It's a warm off-white shade, with the words ‘RAD DUDE’ emblazoned across the front, looking like it was hand written in pen. This, you've tucked into some three quarter length denim shorts, which were a little baggy on you, so they sit high on your waist, and you've used the skull belt to keep them up. The heavy walking boots that had taken you through your journey so far have now been shed, with some well-worn sneakers, squishy and comforting, now laced on your feet.

‘Ta da!’ You giggle nervously, doing a little flourish, arms raised and hip slanted.

Sans is staring, and self consciousness gets the better of you, arms closing back in, shoulders hunching. It's still cold and damp. You rub your now exposed arms in an attempt to generate warmth.

Sans walks over, still staring.

‘Huh. You chose Pap’s shirt. It suits you.’

‘Oh! S-Sorry, I'll pick another, I d-didn’t mean—‘

‘No,’ he interrupts. ‘Keep it. It looks good on you.’

Sans’ pinprick gaze lazily glides over you as he takes in your outfit.

‘It all does.’ He adds.

You pause. A familiar heat blossoms in your cheeks.

‘Thanks,’ you mutter. ‘I like this belt, a lot. It's really cool.’

Sans grin returns, tenfold, as he chuckles. _There it is_!

‘That's mine. Or, rather, it used to be mine, I stopped wearin’ it a good long while ago.’

You admire the buckle, noticing how the skull has five jagged points - one at the top of the skull, two at the cheek bones and two at the lower jaw. It has a wide, gaping, curved mouth, and a long thin crack in the middle, swooping down to the nose. It's certainly not a human skull - the design looks more akin to an animal’s. It’s equal measures of cool and creepy, but now you look at it, it does have a sense of Sans about it.

‘I like the design,’ you muse. ‘Is it based off anything?’

Sans laughs quietly, raising his ‘eyebrows’ and looking shiftily to the side.

‘I guess you could say that. It's, uh… Easiest way to put it, its kinda one of my motifs, I, uh, guess.’

Your features contort in confusion, brow scrunched. Sans flaps a hand in dismissal.

‘Ah, you'll see one day kid, I'm sure. Don't worry about it.’

‘Sans?’

‘Yeah kid?’

‘Are you alright?’

Sans looks crestfallen. He steps closer to you, his hand flying to the back of his skull, his usual stance of bashfulness and trying-to-be-casualness.

‘Aw, pal, am I making you worry about me?’ He’s trying to make his tone sound teasing and playful, you can tell, but his heart just doesn't seem in it.’

‘A bit. You seem… not yourself.’

Sans sighs. He begins to gather the clothes lying around you. He's avoiding eye contact again. You feel mild irritation begin to bubble up in your stomach.

Sans says nothing and continues to pack things away. He starts to send things back to the Dimensional Box.

‘Please tell me what's wrong,’ you try. Frustration begins to set into your jaw. You feel it clenching. ‘Please?’

  
Nothing. Everything is packed away now, Sans has nothing left to distract himself with. He stands up but won't meet your eyes with his own. He looks annoyed. You begin to notice just how cold you feel in these clothes. You've had enough of this.

‘Sans!’ You bark, and finally he turns to you, looking surprised at your sudden change of tone. ‘Tell me what is wrong! I'm cold, I'm confused, and you being all… not… Sans-ish is not helping anything! So tell me what is wrong!’

Sans’ expression is priceless. Sockets wide, mouth agape, he looks the picture of someone who’s completely and utterly perplexed. Clearly he never expected you to have a sassy side.

‘Uh…’ He mumbles.

‘I mean it!’ You place a hand on your hip, and waggle a finger. ‘Right now! Cause I am tired, I am lost, I want my parka back, I'm exhausted from this place and I just need you to be yourself again, just, j-just your normal self!’ You stutter slightly as your newfound confidence wavers.

Sans puts his hands in his shorts pockets, his shoulders slouching forward, expression unreadable.

‘I’m sorry, pal.’

‘No!’ You try again. ‘That's not good enough! You need to tell me what's wrong so I can help make it better and we can get the hell out of here!’

Sans says nothing and stares at the ground. Your patience is on it's last thread.

‘Fine.’ You retort. ‘Fine, I'm not going any further, I’m sitting right here, right here, until you tell me what's wrong.’ You sit down on the cold cavern floor. It's damp, and you're shivering, but you try to look as defiant as possible.

‘Look, kid—‘

‘Nope! I'm not going anywhere, not until you start talking to me properly—‘

‘Kid, I’m trying to te—‘

‘I’m _sick_  of this!’ You're not even letting him talk now, your temper is lost. ‘I'm still just trying my hardest, why can't you—‘

‘Kid, will you let me **TALK?!** ’ Neon blue flame erupts from Sans’ left socket, billowing around his skull for a moment before disappearing again.

His outburst catches you off guard, making you jump. He looks at you now with guilt, clearly worried that he's frightened you. He gingerly takes a step closer.

‘Look, kid, _Frisk_ ,' he starts. ‘It's all been a lot, the last week or so, it's been such a huge change for me, y’know? I was barely livin’ before, and then I met you, and…’ he trails off.

You stand up, slowly.

‘I guess I'm just worried about you, kid. I don't want anyone hurtin’ you. I don't want some other monster tryin’ to threaten ya. And… and…’

‘And what?’ You ask, softly.

‘And I guess, I'm worried that, when we find your family, I… I might never see you again. And… that kind of scares me.’

Sans is staring at the floor, his expression pained, a bead of sweat at his brow.

Before you know what you're really doing, your legs move before your brain has a chance to catch up, and in one big movement, you've rushed over to Sans and thrown your arms around his middle. You bury your face in his chest. You feel him tense, hesitate, then finally relax, as his arms come together to embrace you.

‘That won't happen.’ You tell him, fixed and firm in your tone. ‘I won't let it.’

You feel his chest rumble underneath your face as he laughs.

‘I love how stubborn you are, kid.’

Sans lifts his arms to grip you by your shoulders, pushing you back slightly, meeting your gaze straight on. It's the closest your faces have been in proximity, and you can’t help but feel the nervous energy radiate between you.

Sans’ bony hands slide down from your shoulders to your upper arms. The bones of his fingers feel oddly warm on your bare skin. Soft, somehow. You focus on the white, bright pinpricks of light sitting in his sockets. How they glow and move just like eye pupils would; it never fails to fascinate you.

Your mind glazes over, foggy memories and words floating around aimlessly at the forefront of your thoughts. _He just_ _wanted to have a normal life, probably_ , you think. _He always had to be the responsible one. He never got to just have fun. And then_ _he had nothing_.

‘Poor Sans,’ the words come from out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, quiet and soft.

‘Poor me?’ He replies, voice course and cracking slightly.

‘Yeah,’ is all you can come back with. ‘It's been so hard for you, I know. I'm sorry you were so alone for so long, it makes me hurt to think of that. But it won't happen again, I'll make sure of it,’ you add, smiling in earnest.

Sans doesn't have the chance to reply before your next action. Standing up on your tip toes, you stretch your hands up and place them around his skull, tugging it down towards you. You reach up, and press your lips to his cheekbone, just for a second, ever so lightly, like a whisper. Releasing his skull from your clutch, you assess his reaction. His expression is a mixture of surprise and bluey-glow blush.

He stares at you, dumbfounded, for a few beats, before extending his grin outwards and beaming at you. He pulls you back into a tight hug.

‘You’re somethin’ special, kid. Somethin' truly special.’

You feel something swell with warmth and joy deep within your chest, so filled with happiness that it might burst. You notice a pulling sensation in your abdomen, and a glowing red light...

‘What the…’ you begin to ask, and then panic streams through you as you pull back and witness what is happening. You step back.

‘Oh boy,’ Sans mutters.

A glowing red heart-shaped mass has formed in front of your chest. It throbs and pulses beside you.

‘What… what is this?!’ Your eyes dart to Sans in fear.

‘That's your soul, kid.’

‘What… What is it doing outside of my body?!’

Sans sighs a little, but smiles at you weakly.

‘Welp,’ he exhales, shrugging, one socket closing in a lazy wink. ‘Guess your soul is mine now.’


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, another update! I'm on a new roll with this story now. Expect much more frequent updates now.
> 
> This chapter is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, but. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.
> 
> Enjoy.

‘W-what, wait, wha— H-how do I put it back?!’

You’re staring at your soul that floats, hazily, in front of you. It looks like it's formed almost entirely of a crimson hued ball of light, or energy, roughly shaped in the form of a typical heart silhouette. Your hands instinctively move to cup it gently, your fingers lightly passing through the trails and strings of dewy light, and you feel a soft hum within yourself.

‘Sans,’ you whisper. ‘How do—‘

‘Careful kid, that thing isn't fully formed. You've not done this before, it's still pretty fragile lookin’. You need to just kinda… _will_ it back in,’ Sans instructs, his tone hushed but serious.

Slowly, and with tense concentration, you manage to press the luminous mass carefully back towards your chest. It eases back into you, your hands guiding it into your rib cage. You watch it disappear into yourself, and you feel the warmth and fullness return to your core.

You tremble a little, somewhat shaken from the experience. You’re shivering, too - since Sans made you change into summer gear to apparently prepare for the next route, Waterfall has felt like an ice cave. Your t-shirt and shorts are doing nothing to protect you from the creeping damp chill of the caves.

Sans seems to eye you up and down, concern spread across his features. One of his bony hands is still gripping your right upper arm, and he seems to realise this suddenly, self consciously pulling away and stepping backwards slightly.

‘You, uh… you okay kiddo? That was definitely new, huh?’ Sans tries, gentle in his tone.

‘I… I think so,’ comes your reply. ‘Does… will that happen again? My soul coming… coming out of my body, I mean?’

A familiar nervous droplet of perspiration adorns Sans’ skull as he awkwardly avoids eye contact and takes the stance of attempted nonchalance.

‘Ehhhh…. I mean, I dunno, kid… Hopefully not.’ He looks unconvinced.

‘Why? What do you mean?’

‘Nothing, buddy. Don't worry about it.’

You look at him, frustrated. Another bead of sweat appears on his brow.

‘Ah, ha, let’s, uh… Let’s hope that's the _sole_ time that happens?’ Sans throws at you, shrugging, hands extended out, grinning nervously.

You roll your eyes.

‘If you're not gonna tell me, fine. Can we get out of here now? I’m cold.’

Looking to the ground, you turn, mentally battling with the urge to throw a legitimate tantrum. Sometimes this place is just too much to handle, you think.

‘Aw, shit, kid,’ Sans grunts. ‘C’mon, don’t be like that, please.’

‘I’m not a kid!’ You bite back, adrenaline suddenly coursing hot and flushing in your veins. ‘I’m old enough to look after myself! I’m not a child, stop keeping things from me and telling me what to do!’

Sans looks taken aback. You hate yourself a little for lashing out when only a few moments ago you felt like you'd been making progress, but anger seems to be pouring from you unbidden with no way to reign it back.

‘I can manage, you know, I’m not stupid! You can tell me the truth about things, I can handle it!’

‘Kid, I…’

‘I need to know! I need to know what my soul is for, I need to know what it is you’re trying to protect me from. Why won't you just let me do this? Why won't you let me help you properly?’

‘Kid, it's dangerous, I'm just tryna keep you safe—’

‘But I need to learn! I’m not a little baby, I’m, I’m not—’

‘You don't know this place, buddy,’ Sans is growling a little now, clearly frustrated. You feel cold sweat begin to prickle on the back of your neck. Your heart races.

‘If you went out there on your own, you’d have a really _bad time_ ,’ he insists. His left socket is threatening to flicker blue and yellow. He seems to be attempting to hold back his emotions.

‘You don't know that! I made it this far, didn't I? I made it on my own before you, I… If you'd just teach me, tell me things, stop babying me! You can't hide everything from me forever, I’m—’

‘You’re _reeeeeally_ outta your depth right now, bud—’

‘I’m not yours to decide what to, w-what to protect from, I’m not—’

‘Kid, I’m warnin’ ya—’

‘You can’t keep it from me, you can’t censor life for me, I’m my own person, I’m—’

‘Frisk, you gotta calm down already—’

‘No!’ You spit. Something inside of you, deep inside, that had been threatening to snap, finally breaks. ‘I’m not him, Sans. I’m not your brother, I’m not Papyrus. You can’t control me or keep me out of trouble or whatever it is you do. You can't keep it all hidden away from me, it's not your right!’

The words bark out of your mouth before you can really stop yourself. You hear them echo against the cave walls, ugly and cruel. You regret it immediately. Sans’ face is contorted with hurt and anger, and he's stunned into silence.

No one says anything for a few moments, you hear nothing but your own racing heart and your heavy, guilty breaths as reality begins to seep back. What have I said. Oh, god….

‘Sans, I… I didn't mean that, I didn't mean—’

‘You wanna get out of Waterfall so bad, pal?’ Sans bites. ‘Fine by me! Your wish is my freakin’ command,’ he growls.

Before you know it, Sans has closed the gap between you and grabbed your arm, gripping it with force. He's refusing to meet your gaze, jaw clenched into a tight grimace.

‘Sans, plea—’

You’re cut off mid sentence by the familiar but wholly unpleasant lurch in your stomach, the telling pull as everything begins to blur around you, and your head fills with buzzing. You concentrate on the grip Sans has on your arm, as it yanks you from reality and into the void.

 

  
***

 

 

Your knees and hands hit solid ground, the force of teleportation smacking you bluntly against a hard floor. Sight obscured, you inhale sharply with the sting. You try to sit back, disoriented. Your palms and knee caps are on fire, and when you timidly, blindly, go to touch your knees, your finger tips discover hot, sticky scrapes. _Great. I’m bleeding_.

You hold your hands in front of you and try to make them out, squinting. You think you're going to throw up, nausea is pulling aggressively at your insides. You can just about make out cuts and scrapes on your palms, too, now.

Senses now almost completely returned, save for the general feeling of exhaustion you've come to expect, you assess the location. You hate to admit it, but… Sans had been right about the change of clothes being necessary. To say you suddenly feel a lot warmer would be a slight understatement.

Looking around, all you can see is amber-hued jagged rocky terrain. Yet another cave, you muse. Except it seems a little different. Sans seems to have teleported into a small clearing, rocky walls and boulders surrounding you. When you look ahead further up the path, you can just about make out how the cave walls seem to dissipate, giving way to a rather risky looking series of cliffs, with black nothingness looming below.

Even in your shorts and t-shirt, you’re sweating with the heat. It's a welcome change from the claustrophobic damp of Waterfall, but given the circumstances, it's not helping you feel any better right now. You groan and rub the back of a hand to your brow. Your head is still pounding.

_Where is Sans?_

You let your eyes wearily glaze over the surroundings on a casual scout for the skeleton’s location. He's stood a little way from you, hands in his pockets, expression pained. You can't help but muse how he’s managing to look both like a petulant, irritated child, and genuinely intimidating all at once. He's point blank refusing to look at you, but he must realise that you’ve come-to, as he walks a little closer to you.

Your voice is thick and fragmented with lethargy and stress, but you attempt to talk anyway.

‘Sans, I’m sorry, I’m sorr—‘

‘I knew this was all a bad idea. We should never have done this.’ His voice is strained, monotone.

‘W-what?’

Sans still won't look at you.

‘Ahh, jeez,’ he sighs crossly, covering his face with his hands and beginning to pace aloofly. ‘I’m such a fuckin’ idiot.’

‘Sans, what are you saying…?’ Tears are threatening to break out from you. You feel everything, every single word you're managing to utter, every word he’s saying; you feel each single word like a clamp on your chest.

Sans drags his hands down his face while he groans, then lets his arms go limp at his sides before finally looking at you.

‘This was such a dumb idea. I’m a dumbass,’ he mutters. ‘The BIGGEST fuckin’ DUMBASS in the UNDERGROUND!’ He shouts, at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in despair before returning them to his pockets with defiance.

‘Sans, look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said, I didn't mean it, plea—‘

‘No, kid,’ Sans stammers out. ‘I’m the one who's sorry, sorry I ever thought this whole mess was a good idea. I’m sorry you got dragged into something you know nothing, _nothing_ , about. I’m sorry I wasted your time.’

‘No, you didn't, I just wanted to help, I want to help, I… I, please, please, Sans,’ the tears burst, hot and desperate. ‘Please.’

Sans signs again, pinching his forehead, sockets scrunched shut.

‘I gotta take you back.’ He mutters. ‘I gotta take you back and we can act like none of this happened. I’m a stupid, stupid, dumbass skeleton.’

‘No! Please,’ you’re crying in earnest now. _Always such a cry baby_ , a voice inside you tries to spite, but your panic and grief at the very thought of parting ways with Sans is too much for you to bare.

‘Please, please don’t take me back, I’m sorry, you were right, I _do_ need protecting, I’m just a human, Sans, please,’ you push yourself shakily up, grunting, the cuts and scrapes on your knees having begun to stiffen with a dull ache. The movement from sitting to standing sends a heavy rush of blood to your head. You begin to feel dizzy.

Sans seems to suddenly notice your injuries, his expression softening slightly, sockets widening just an inch. You carefully step over to him, fresh tears thick on your lashes, body exhausted and bruised.

‘Please,’ you beg, softly. ‘You were right.’ You stumble.

‘Woahhh, kid,’ Sans dips to steady you, his arms deftly moving to catch your own as you begin to lose stability in your legs.

‘ _Eeeeeasy_ , easy now,’ he hushes.

‘Please,’ you whisper. The toll of teleportation, the upset and the heat of the climate suddenly overwhelms you. You blink slowly, once, twice - register Sans’ worried expression through watery, fading vision, and then: black.

 

 

***

 

 

  
A voice. A low rumble. A pounding in your head. Muffled words.

‘—portation really did a number on ya, huh, kid.’

You become slowly aware of the fact you're laying down. You slowly attempt to open your eyes, blinking, then it all comes back. The fight, the falling… I must have passed out.

There’s something soft underneath you. Flexing your hands - which are now bandaged, you note - you feel the satiny sleek fabric of your sleeping bag.

‘Welcome back to the land of the living,’ you hear. You squint, turn, and see Sans, crouched over you. ‘Although, I'm guess there ain't really much else livin’ here, so, just, welcome back, I guess.’

You let your eyes close again in effort as you muster the strength to sit up. You do so, groaning, and there’s suddenly a hand at your back to aid you.

‘Slowly does it, pal,’ Sans soothes. ‘I gotchya.’

‘I’m s-sorr…’ you try, voice hoarse.

Sans chuckles. The sound of him laughing is a sweet relief to you after so much confrontation.

‘You’re a broken record, kiddo. Don’t try to talk for a hot minute, will ya? Let me say somethin’ first.’

You motion to protest but Sans shakes his head. You ease your position, carefully, with fragile movements, to better see him. He’s grinning at you again, softly, and let's himself ease back into a relaxed sitting position next to you. This has got to be better than before, at least, you muse.

‘You were right, kid,’ he starts, holding up a hand when you attempt to splutter a rebuttal. ‘Just let me say my bit. You were right - you’re not my bro. I shouldn't have been molly coddlin’ ya so much.’

You swallow hard, feeling guilty.

‘I mean, it's just my thing, y’know?’ Sans continues. ‘I got so used to that being my job with Pap, and then it was gone, and then meetin’ you and doing all of this, I guess, I fell into old routines. Or whatever.’

You nod, saying nothing.

‘I didn't to stress ya out, pal. I just wanted to keep you safe, I c—… I care about you, y’know?’ Sans looks awkward. You can't help but feel amused by how bashful he can get. He notices you smiling and seems flustered.

‘L-look, kid!’ He starts. ‘I just… I just never could have expected we’d end up bein’ such good pals. It all happened so quick, it was just so easy, so natural…’ he trails off.

‘I know what you mean,’ you agree, beaming. Sans looks pleased.

‘Yeah. And that's why I just fell into the ol’ ‘big bro’ mindset. Gotta keep safe what I care about.’

You shift a little on your sleeping bag, noticing the extent of the bruises on your legs.

‘Yeesh,’ Sans tuts. ‘I overdid it on the teleportin’ back there. I shouldn’t of done it when I was angry…’ he looks at your bruises, guiltily.

‘It's okay,’ you shrug.

‘Nah, it's not. Let me fix you up. This’ll only take a second, kid.’

Sans’ sockets close for a moment, and when he opens them again, only the left socket is alight; the usual white pinprick now replaced with a glowing orb that flickers electric blue and yellow. His left hand begins to spark a soft, gentle blue flame. He holds out his palm as he allows it to buckle and grow.

Sans passes the flame-adorned hand over your bruises. You feel a warmth over you, the flames licking at your scrapes and easing the aches. Your bruises fade, the cuts heal over, your muscles feel renewed.

‘Wow,’ you giggle.

Sans seems pleased. He grins at you, sockets returning to normal with a blink.

‘You should also have this,’ he says softly. From his outstretched palm, a small length of light begins to form, in the shape of a bone. It glimmers white for a moment, taking a more solid shape, then with apparent concentration from Sans, it changes to a pleasant shade of green.

‘Eat your greens,’ Sans chuckles, more to himself than anything, before adding: ‘If it's green, it's a healing magic. Take it, pal, it’ll give you back the rest of your energy.’

‘How?’

‘Like this,’ Sans rumbles, voice low and quiet as he gently moves closer. He gestures the emerald bone towards you. He lifts one of your hands for you, and together with his own, he helps you guide it into your chest, the same way you eased your soul back within. The green light disappears into you, and you feel energy and general good feelings flow in you. You look up from your chest, and meet your gaze directly with Sans. His face is inches from yours. He looks, somehow, amazed.

‘I’d never seen a human’s soul before,’ he muses quietly. ‘And yours just came out, so easy.’

You swallow hard, blushing.

‘Did you mean what you said?’ You ask, voice barely audible.

‘What, about this bein’ a mistake? Naw kid, I was just lashin’ out, I—‘

‘No,’ you cut him off. ‘About my soul. You said it belongs to you?’

Sans’ expression is priceless, it's as if he's been caught red handed, his pinpricks minimising in mild comical panic.

‘Ahaaa, ahh… I was just messin’, kid.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, you know me, bud,’ Sans leans back, his usual lazy, ever-so-slightly sleazy grin returning, lids heavy and low. ‘Just a little joke.’

‘Oh. I meant it when I said it before though, if you need it, it's yours.’

Sans belly laughs, coughing a little as he looks at you with familiar ease and lackadaisical affection.

‘I’d better actually explain to you the importance of souls before you go signin’ yours away, huh, pal?’

 

 

***

 

  
‘So, let me get this straight,’ you say, chewing hasty mouthfuls of… whatever this was, that Sans had handed you to eat. It tasted and felt like corn bread but with a slightly spicy kick.

‘My soul is my weapon? And my power?’

‘Kinda. It's hard to explain.’ Sans is prodding at his wide grin with a toothpick, reclining lazily against a boulder.

You finish your slice of food, savouring the last crumbs on your fingers, licking them clean like a cat. _A bad habit_ , you think. You look to Sans. He’s still looking at you, but seems to be somewhat entranced. _I probably grossed him out again_.

‘And human souls are valuable in the Underground? Like a commodity? A treasure?’ You ask, brushing crumbs off your clothes.

‘Bingo,’ Sans replies simply. His tone sounds somewhat bitter.

‘So it's important that I keep mine safe. I get that now. You should of just told me in the first place,’ you sigh. 

Sans rolls his eye-glints at you.

‘Jeez kid, flog a dead horse much do ya?’ He grins. ‘I know I should’ve. But now you know. You might need to use your soul to protect yourself some day.’

‘Mmmm.’ You mumble, a little unconvinced and distracted.

‘Try not to worry, kid.’

‘Mmmm,’ you repeat. You’re beginning to doubt your own abilities to fight with your soul. How can that be possible when you barely manage to keep one foot in front of the other? Despite how you'd argued otherwise, you definitely did need Sans looking after you. You’d be lost without him.

You look at him now, with affection, grateful. He’s such good company, it’s so easy to feel comfortable with him. You still haven’t gotten quite used to the sight of his exposed forearms (now that he’s dressed more suitably for this hot environment). You love the way the bones seem to look so smooth. You imagine being wrapped up in them, being held close to his chest, being able to bury your face into his ribcage, safe and warm in his hold.

You let your mind wander as it conjures pleasant images for you; walking side by side with Sans through Snowdin, maybe with your hands lightly touching, entwining… Sitting together on the couch, laughing at the dumb TV shows, it’d all feel so easy, so right… You imagine him throwing his arm over your shoulders, pulling you in, you nuzzling into his side, breathing him in… _I wonder what he smells of_ —

‘—and then I guess we’ll go from there. You listenin’ to me, kid?’

You snap back to reality, heat flushing into your cheeks. _Oh no_.

‘Uh, u-uh, yeah, um, what? No, say that again?’

Sans chuckles.

‘I said, we’ll head towards the direction of the Royal Lab. There we should be able to find the Royal Scientist and they can start shedding some light on all this mess. Hopefully.’

‘Ah, aha, okay,’ you stammer. _Oh god, oh god_.

Sans leans forward and inspects you with a look up and down.

‘You okay kid? You still dizzy from the teleportin’?’

‘Uh… Y-Yeah, I guess… so?’ The way he's looking at you, it's just making your cheeks flush even warmer. _Ohhhhhhh no, this is bad, this is really bad._

Sans doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he shrugs easily and starts to unpack his own sleeping bag next to yours.

‘Alrighty, guess we ain’t doing any more travelin’ for today then.’

‘Any excuse to laze about,’ you goad, giggling, voice betraying your newfound nervousness slightly.

He throws you a wink. _Ohhh no, don't do that, that makes it worse… why do you have to be so charming?_

You swallow hard. A realisation, sudden and heady, was beginning to dawn on you. Butterflies were forming in your stomach. Using every ounce of effort you can muster, you try to staunch the flow of your thoughts. You try to busy yourself with straightening out your sleeping bag, probably looking ridiculous and awkward in the process. You feel Sans watching you, but you can't meet his gaze. Not with your head suddenly buzzing with everything it currently is. _I like him, I like him… No, nope no no yes no stop stop how did I not see this before of course I do I always have oh goooood_

‘This place sure is h-hot,’ you try, making small talk, attempting to swallow the thick lump in your throat.

‘Oh?’ Sans smirks. ‘You never told me about my new nickname, kid.’

‘N-new, nickname?’

‘Yeah,’ he grins. ‘Since when did you call me ‘This Place’?’

You stop your fussing over the sleeping bag, frozen with embarrassment. You look up at him. He's beaming, obviously waiting for you to get the joke.

You laugh a little, nervously.

‘H-haha, good one,’ you praise, pathetically.

  
Sans frowns, seemingly disappointed that you had no comeback. Your mind races as you panic, _say something, say SOMETHING, ANYTHING!_

‘It's funny cause it's true,’ you find yourself managing to stutter out. _Anything but THAT_. You could have punched yourself in the face. You don’t even give Sans the chance to react before your mind catches up and finally seems to let you be coherent.

‘But, uh, you can’t hold a candle to me,’ you add, sweating a little. It's a bad joke, but at least it's a save.

Sans blinks at you, blankly. You fluster a little.

‘Uh, get it? Cause candles, flames… heat…’, you trail off. _You’re making it worse!_

Sans blinks again, before relaxing into his usual goofy expression. He chuckles.

‘You’re too cute when you're all burned out, pal.’ he grins.

Your cheeks must be positively a-glow with how fierce your blush is. You fumble for a comeback, and find your brain has turned to mush. You stare at your hands, unable to even maintain eye contact.

‘W-what's this place - This route! - called, anyhow?’ You tangent.

Sans laughs.

‘Woulddya believe it, you’re currently situated in the ever so originally named Hotland.’

Your head whips up as you give him a look of disbelief.

‘Seriously?’ You giggle.

‘Yeah,’ Sans beams.

‘Wow,’ you throw back. ‘That's hilarious. On the nose, much?’

You both laugh together, relief and ease flowing through you. It all works so well. He never lets me feel awkward, he just makes it all so relaxed and easy.

‘It's been a pretty intense day, huh, bud?’ Sans smiles kindly. You nod.

‘C’mere,’ he grunts, scooting forward, leaning toward you. You're not sure what's happening, but Sans gently lifts you by your waist and pulls you towards him, so you're sitting cross legged almost in his lap. He crosses his own legs behind your back, securing you in place, before wrapping two bony arms around you and letting you mush yourself into his chest.

Your heart begins to pound.

‘No more fightin’ now kid. Promise.’

You inhale slowly, body tense. Your arms are bent in front of you, hands clasped together. You gingerly let your fingers spread, carefully, against the top of his ribcage. You sigh, relaxing a little. Even though Sans is short compared with typical monster standards, he still manages to dwarf you. It's usually the butt of his jokes, but right now, feeling so small in his arms, it feels… like a good fit.

You breathe in, feeling Sans’ chest bones through the soft folds of his t-shirt, pressing against your face. You yawn, eyes weary, the fatigue from the day’s events suddenly hitting you like a brick wall. You sleepily note how his bones feel cooler to the touch than you expected. You like this.

You let an arm creep around Sans’ waist and nuzzle your face into his front, yawning again.

‘I think someone needs some Z’s,’ you hear him muffle into your hair.

‘Mmrrfff…’ comes your feeble attempt at murmured agreement.

You’re dimly aware of Sans easing you back down, lowering you on to your sleeping bag. You curl up on contact with it. Consciousness starts to ebb and flow away from you.

‘Mmmrff…than…thank you…’ you attempt, voice grizzly with near-sleep.

You hear Sans’ low rumble of laughter.

In the last moments before you finally fall asleep, you’re pretty sure you feel a cool, bony hand, gently brush your hair from your cheek.

‘Anytime, kid. Anytime.’


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for you! Told ya they'd be more frequent...
> 
> Minor angst and a little fluff for ya. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_You open your eyes. Slowly. So slowly._

_You feel the sense of dread and unease in your veins before your senses confirm it; you're dreaming. It's not just any dream, you know this. It's the kind of dream in which **he** visits you._

_You look around. Everything looks as it should, you're in Hotland, you're still in your sleeping bag, but it's dark. It's the same, but… it's not. The world around you is gloomy, the air heavy with nervous energy, your vision slightly bleary. When you look around, objects seem to haze and jitter as if you were on some kind of hallucinogenic substance._

_You know for sure that it's a dream now, as you notice Sans is nowhere to be seen. Not even his sleeping bag. It's just you, alone, tense, a pulsating buzz in your head. You hear the echoes of whispered voices, the words inaudible. They seem to taunt you._

_You know the drill by now. You’re expecting him, expecting that… flower, to come and threaten you. You shakily manage to pull yourself up, standing, feet wobbly on the ground that feels like it might give way any moment. Nothing feels stable in this dream world._

_You wait a few moments for him to show. Nothing. You look around, teeth grit and jaw clenched, waiting for the surprise attack that you're sure must be inevitable._

_Nothing._

_Silence._

_‘H-hhhello?’ You try. Your voice is thick; attempting to speak feels like trying to swim through an oil slick._

_Nothing_.

_You take a few cautious steps forward. Each step seems to make the floor vibrate beneath you, sending a shiver up your spine with any movement. Your eyes dart madly around the environment trying to locate any trace of a golden petal or green leaf. Your ears are straining to hear any sign of… anything, around you._

_You hear something._

_What is that sound?_

_A little high pitched, broken, quiet… it's so familiar…_

_You step forward a little more._

_‘Hello? Who's there?’ You blurrily manage to utter._

_You begin to hear the noise more clearly._

_Is it…. An animal? No, no… it sounds too familiar, too real, too—_

_You realise it's the sound of crying. Feeble, helpless sobbing._

_This is a trap, you think, but you can't resist - you begin to near-blindly fumble forward in the direction of the sound.  
It's a child, it's a child crying… You hear it more clearly now._

_‘Where are you?’ You throw out._

_The weeping gets louder. Your hands come to meet a rocky wall, and feeling your way around, you begin to make out a faint light on the other side. You can hear the child sniffling and sobbing, you know deep inside that this isn't real, it's not right, but, it sounds so helpless—_

_Easing your way around the corner, you see the source of the light. Your path has transformed into a cavern, not unlike Waterfall, you can actually hear dripping, water that drops in fat tears from the ceiling, moisture all around you… The light, it's a break in the cave, a little bit of light seems to filter in, creating a tunnel of light, and in the centre, someone… or something… is crouched, hunched over, shoulders trembling slightly as it sobs…_

_‘Hello?’ You try, gentle. ‘Who are you?’_

_The child’s voice comes softly, timidly, the words seeming to resonate right in your ears._

_‘I’m lost,’ it tells you, feebly._

_‘Show me who you are,’ you plead._

_You step closer, trying to make out the shapes of the figure._

_‘Let me help you,’ you offer._

_The child turns to face you, sniffing._

_It's a skeleton._

_His skull is long, jaw wide, sockets small and feline. His body is long, arms lanky, legs bent underneath himself. He's dressed in a familiar looking t-shirt and shorts._

_Your realisation is slower in this dream world, but it sluggishly dawns on you… is this… is this…_

_‘Are you Papyrus?’ You ask, voice barely a whisper._

_‘Where am I?’ He sniffs, wiping a trail of tears from his cheekbone with the back of his hand. They leave behind a delicate orange glow._

_‘I don't know,’ you reply, helpless in your honesty. ‘We’re trying to find you.’_

_‘Where’s Sans?’ He asks, and you feel a stab of sorrow in your gut._

_You crouch next to him, looking him in the eye._

_‘He's… he's with me, we’re going to find you, I promise,’ you urge. ‘Just be brave.’_

_‘I want to go home,’ Papyrus tells you._

_‘I know,’ you mutter, pained._

_‘I could do it,’ he says._

_‘Do what?’_

_‘I could go home, and I could be back with my brother…’_

_‘Yes, I know, we can find you—‘_

_‘If you just give me your soul.’_

_‘W-what?’_

_Papyrus’ jaw is morphing, changing, his eyes, blackening… his mouth is a sinewy, gaping grin, sharp, like fabric being torn, eyes black oblivion, open and endless…_

_You stand up, defensive, panicking, and you hear that same manic laughter you'd heard before… and you knew this would happen, you had known, really, that there was no other explanation…_

_**‘G I V E M E Y O U R S O U L’** _

_The not-so-Papyrus’ body begins to melt and dissolve into a black sludge that pools on the floor around you, then begins to reshape and form unsettlingly, pushing through, snapping into place… a stem, leaves, a head…_

_You step backwards, panic rushing through you… heartbeat loud, you notice your chest beginning to glow red, no no no…. You clasp your hands to your chest… you must contain it, keep it inside, you can't have it…_

_‘ **FRRRRIIISSSSKKKKKK….’** comes Flowey’s hiss, as he continues to transform, grow, burgeon into a much bigger monster than before, vines are starting to twist and snake around your feet, they creep up, inching towards your chest, you see eyes with angry, red pupils, manic and deranged…_

_‘No,’ you try to scream, but it comes out garbled and watery, you feel like you're drowning in open air, suffocating… ‘Nnnnrooo….’_

_Choking, can't breathe…_

_Laughter, sharp, cruel in your ear…._

_Air, need air, chest tight, red glow getting brighter…_

_You feel a tight grip on your shoulders, so tight, it's pulling you, shaking you, shaking…_

_‘Kid?!’_

_Sans, it's Sans, he's got you—_

 

  
You gasp for air, pulled out of the dream violently, snapping back into the real world, feeling like you've physically been dragged out. You're drenched in sweat, your heart is burning and pounding in your ribcage. Frantically, you check your chest for any signs of your soul, examining it with urgency. No sign of the red glow. You become dimly re-aware of the grip on your shoulders.

‘Kid?! You alright?’

It's Sans. You blink at him, mind still adjusting to leaving the dream world, and groaning, you nod.

‘You were screamin’,’ he informs you, sounding worried. ‘Was it another bad dream?’

You nod again, simply, far too worn out to even try and explain yet.

‘Aw, jeez,’ he sighs, exasperated.

The two of you say nothing as you let your breathing slowly return to a normal pattern. Sans traces circles on your back with a bony fingertip.

‘You're okay now, kid,’ he soothes.

You nod for the third time. Your voice seems to have left you. You bring your knees to your chest and bury your face in to your arms.

‘Shhhh,’ Sans hushes. ‘I got ya kid, I got ya.’

 

 

***

 

  
You haven't spoken for a while. Sans let you calm down, then once he'd been sure that you were feeling a bit more stable, he'd gone about making the two of you some breakfast; pre-made pancakes from a packet (shaped like little cute dog faces) and some bizarre but delicious kind of fruit you didn't recognise. Sans had quietly chugged a bottle of ketchup while occasionally eyeing you with concern.

After you had finished eating, you silently passed your plate back to Sans with a weak smile. Now you sit, feeling lost. For something to do, you busy yourself rolling your sleeping bag back into a tight bundle, strapping it together.

You hear Sans clear his throat.

‘So… uh…’ he trails off, clearly trying to be sensitive. ‘You feeling okay?’

You shrug your shoulders meekly. You want to talk, you really do. But your voice feels trapped, your mouth feels cemented shut. Your body is betraying you. _No, I’m not okay, I’m not,_ your mind blares.

‘You don't have to talk about it kiddo. I know what it's like, nightmares can be rough,’ Sans consoles.

You shrug again.

‘Hey, uh, did I ever tell you about the time I had a nightmare about hotdogs?’ He tries.

You shake your head, not looking up.

‘It was the _wurst_ ,’ comes the punchline.

You can't help yourself - a genuine giggle escapes you, and you look up. Sans is beaming, his grin wide and gleeful.

‘It _mustard_  been something I ate,’ he continues. ‘But I was having a _weenie_  bad time.’

You’re laughing wholeheartedly now, nerves beginning to wear off.

‘Stop,’ you giggle.

‘Can’t,’ Sans shrugs, winking. ‘I've got so many jokes to _ketchup_  on.’

‘Urghhh,’ you groan, fondly. You throw your sleeping bag bundle at him playfully.

A flash of blue emits from Sans’ left socket as he uses magic to catch the sleeping bag mid air, and he tosses it back towards you, lightly. It _thud_ s into you. It doesn't hurt at all, but you decide to fake injury for the sake of it.

‘Owww!’ You whine, voice still light with amusement. ‘I’m gonna get you back for that.’

Sans’ grin extends, his sockets become lidded with casualness.

‘I’d _love_  to see you try, kiddo.’

You give him a mock pout, then stick out your tongue at him. He chuckles, deep and low. Grabbing the sleeping bag, You get up and walk over to where he's sitting. His expression changes to mild surprise as you close the gap between you and playfully (and gently) _thwapp_  him, right in the middle of his face, with the sleeping bag.

You burst into a fit of giggles as soon as you see his face, his expression of disbelief and complete shock is just too entertaining for you to bare. You crouch to sit with him, still giggling, his face unwavering. Your laughter begins to fade as you see his expression change slightly, and his sockets darken.

Sans turns his skull slowly to face you, sockets completely darkened.

‘Oh man-oh-man, you are _soooo_ dead, kid.’ He tells you, voice low and gruff.

He launches on you, pinning you underneath him. You can't help but panic a little, suddenly paranoid that you're still in the dream world, or he's genuinely angry, or —

That is, until the tickling starts. Sans mercilessly tickles you, his grin now mischievous, sockets burning bright with intense white-hot lights that bore into you with purpose. He means _business_.

You squirm and squeal underneath him.

‘NNNnnnOO! ahhhHHhaaa STOOOHAAAPP!!’ You yelp, uncontrollable laughter taking over you, hands flying wildly trying to fight off his advances.

‘Ohhhhh-ho-ho-no,’ Sans teases. ‘You started this, pal!’

Attempting to fight him back is completely pointless; Sans is bizarrely strong, and you're completely at his mercy. Eventually he eases off, leaning over you, his arms supporting himself upright above you. His face is inches away from your own.

Your giggling slows, then fades quietly away. You swallow. You feel a familiar heat begin to flush into your cheeks.

Sans’ grin is faltering slightly as his gaze on you seems to intensify. He stares at you, his jaw slacking. You’re both breathing heavily from the effort of the play fight. You clear your throat nervously, staring up at him, suddenly oh-so-aware of your body pinned under the weight of his.

He almost looks different like this. Less like his usual lazy-bones self, and more… intense? Vulnerable? Raw?

You realise that neither of you have said anything for a while. You look awkwardly to the side and shift your body slightly, before darting your gaze back to Sans’ face. A blue toned blush is teasing its way across his cheekbones. Your brain scatters wildly for something to say, anything to say, just _something_ …

_Kiss me_ , is what you think. _Kiss me, please kiss me._

‘I saw Papyrus in my dream,’ is what you actually say.

Sans’ face immediately contorts with confusion and strain.

‘W-what?’ He utters, drawing himself up to clamber off of you, and just like that, the moment is gone.

‘Except I don't think it was actually him,’ you explain. ‘It was like a fake version of him, except he was a kid… But then it transformed, it was Flowey, that monster from before.’

You sit yourself up.

‘It told me to give it my soul. It really wants it for some reason.’

Sans is rubbing a palm to his forehead, expression scrunched. All atmosphere of playfulness and… anything else, has completely dissipated. Sans groans. You can't tell whether it's related to the dream, or the mutual return to reality after the tickle fight.

‘This _Flowey_  sounds like a real piece of work,’ Sans grunts.

You nod.

‘He clearly knows about Papyrus,’ you observe. ‘Seeing as he used him to try and lure me in the dream. Flowey knows we’re looking for Pap. I wonder if he knows everything.’

You almost see the non-existent hairs rise on Sans’ neck, as it were. He grimaces angrily and clenches his jaw.

‘If anyone tries to hurt you, _anyone_ ,’ he growls. ‘They'll have me to answer to.’

His gaze diverts away from you, a hint of sapphire blue glimmer in his left socket.

Your heart swells with affection. _This dumb skeleton. This big, dumb, wonderful skeleton._

You realise you must be staring at him when he turns back to look at you and grins, amused.

‘What, cat got your tongue, kid?’ He scoffs lightheartedly.

You blush. ‘N-no,’ you stammer.

‘Good,’ Sans mutters. ‘Best you hold on to it, might come in handy.’ He winks at you.

  
_Wait, w-what?_ Your blush intensifies as your mind rapidly begins to attempt to read into his words.

Sans seems to realise, after seeing your expression, the implications of what he’s said, and a bead of sweat appears on his brow.

‘Hey, Sans—’ you start.

‘So, kid, we better get going if we’re gonna _blaze_  a trail through Hotland,’ Sans cuts you off, pushing himself up with a grunt.

He stands, and shoves his hands into his shorts pockets. You blink slowly, feeling dumb. _What would I even have said if he’d_ _given me the chance…?_

Sans seems to be giving you a slightly strained looking grin.

‘C’mon, pal. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can _heat-wave_  goodbye to this inferno.’

‘That was so bad,’ you laugh.

Sans smirks.

‘I don't know what you’re talkin’ bout, kiddo. I’m _on fire_ today.’

You get up, a tad shakily, giggling.

‘Half- _baked_ , more like,’ you throw back cheekily.

You both share a moment of pleasant quiet, grinning at each other like idiots, comfortable in the routine of bantering like this. _I never wanna be without this, now_ , you think to yourself.

‘Do you know which way we need to go?’ You ask, earnestly, breaking the glow.

Sans nods.

‘There's a big laboratory in the East of Hotland. I’m guessin’ that's where we’ll find the current Royal Scientist. Maybe we’ll start gettin’ some questions answered when we find them,’ he tells you, sounding confident, efficiently sending all of the camping gear back to the Dimensional Box with a few swift taps on his phone.

You nod, filled with determination.

‘Howzaboutit, pal? Shall we shake a leg?’ Sans asks you, sounding jolly and lighthearted.

‘Or shake a _bone_?’ You giggle.

‘Easy, tiger,’ Sans winks.

And with that, and with Sans leading the way, the two of you set off through Hotland, your soul feeling stronger and more determined with every step.

 

 

 

  
**********

 

 

 

 

‘Yeah, kid, ‘dog. Apostrophe-dog. It's short for hot-dog.’ Sans is telling you.

You laugh.

‘Well, d’ya want one or not?’ Sans asks.

The two of you have discovered another sentry station after crossing a bridge between Hotland cliffs. Peering cautiously over the edge earlier, you'd glimpsed the bubbling molten lava beneath (that is, before Sans had dragged you away mumbling something about needing to be more careful.)

Sans is eyeing the sentry stand fondly. He takes up position behind its bar, and you step lightly to play along, giggling, standing eagerly on the other side as if you’re a customer.

‘Sure!’ You beam.

Sans grins.

‘One ‘dog, comin’ right up,’ he confirms. He rummages behind the wooden counter and produces a little hotdog in a bun. You pick it up, and take a timid bite. It's delicious. It's only small, so you finish it in a few mouthfuls.

‘It's good!’ You praise.

‘You want another?’ Sans is leaning lazily on the counter, head supported by one hand, his expression is slack and carefree.

‘Mmmhmm!’

The second ‘dog that Sans produces for you has little ears on the end of the sausage, you notice.

‘Hot Cat,’ Sans explains, winking.

Laughing, you take a bite. It's still delicious. You chew thoughtfully.

‘How did you heat it up?’ You ask.

Sans winks again. ‘Trade secret, buddo.’

He's watching you eat the Hot Cat, lids heavy and relaxed.

You finish the last bite, savouring the taste, licking your fingers before you can stop yourself. _—Ack!!_  You realise. _Such a bad_ _habit._

You look nervously up to Sans, who you worry you will have grossed out again. For a reason you're not sure of, he's suddenly staring at you, sockets wide, his jaw slackened, sweat beading on his forehead. You blush.

‘S-Sorry,’ you stammer. ‘It's gross I know, it's a bad habit, I don't realise I do it.’

Sans blinks slowly before seeming to suddenly realise you said anything. His hand slips momentarily from supporting his skull and he jumps, then straightens himself quickly with a nervous throat clearing.

‘Don't sweat it, pal,’ he reassures, his tone a little distant, the hint of a smirk edging its way into his jaw.  
You laugh nervously, then grin. You lean forwards, on tip toes, resting your arms on the counter of the stand, bouncing a little. You feel suddenly playful. Sans raises a socket brow at your sudden rush of enthusiasm. He smiles at you, fondly.

Sans leans a little closer, too, and folds his arms across the bar to mirror yours.

‘Betcha can’t balance 10 ‘dogs on your head,’ he challenges, tone mischievous.

‘Try me, bone-boy,’ you laugh. You see him raise his brow again.

‘That's a new one,’ he smirks. Maintaining his position, staring you right in the face, you see his left socket begin to glow blue as he uses his magic. A bun-less hotdog sausage floats from underneath the counter, a bluey haze surrounding it, and it places itself gently on your head. You steady yourself and grin with determination.

There are only a few inches between your faces as you struggle to not laugh.

Sans uses magic to add more ‘dogs, and soon you have 5 stacked on your head. Sans is trying to match your straight face, turning this into a slight staring competition too. You see his white pinpricks dart around as you feel them taking in every part of your face. You notice how his gaze seems to frequently settle on your lips before quickly returning to your eyes.

‘Impressive, kid,’ he mutters. ‘6…7…8…’

On the 8th dog, you lose composure and the hotdog sausages slip off you and tumble hilariously to the floor, flying about in all directions. You both stop, look down, look at each other, then simultaneously break into a mutual fit of hysterical laughter.

You’re bent over double, unable to stop laughing, and when you look up to Sans, he’s wiping tears of amusement from his sockets.

‘I tried!’ You manage to exclaim through giggles.

‘Hey, kid,’ Sans chuckles. ‘I mean, you might have lost the bet, but—’

‘Oh no,’ you giggle. ‘Don’t do it-‘

‘—But you’ll always be a _weiner_  to me,’ Sans finishes, clearly pleased with himself, grin wide as wide can be.

You mock groan and roll your eyes affectionately, returning to your position leaning on the counter. Sans eyes you lackadaisically, sockets lidded, smiling earnestly.

‘You’re a dumb skeleton, you know that?’ You tell him playfully.

He closes his sockets and shrugs comically.

‘Don’t hate the player.’ He winks.

‘I don't,’ you smirk. ‘I kinda like him, actually.’

Sans opens a single eye socket, his right, and the white pinprick of light seems to be burning a little brighter than usual.

‘Is that so, kid?’

‘You know it is,’ you smile, sincere.

He opens his sockets fully and shrugs a little, his hands disappearing into his shorts pockets. You feel a surge of determination and feel somewhat bold.

‘Sans, I—’

‘Hey, uh, we should keep movin’ buddy,’ Sans theatrically gestures looking at a non-existent watch. ‘All this goofin’ around won't get us very far.’

You swallow down the words that were about to rush out of you, and feel foolish, hot blood rushing in your ears with the adrenaline of embarrassment. Two times now he's done this, cut you off and forced the return to reality on you. You smile weakly, and nod.

‘Mmmm,’ is all you say.

You quickly chance a look to Sans to gage his expression. He's not looking at you now, and you notice he looks a little forlorn, perspiration prickling at the back of his skull. You pull back from the counter and self consciously adjust and fidget with your clothes. Your fingers trace over the grooves of the skull-shaped belt buckle.

_He just sees me as a kid. He wouldn't like me back, silly me, silly Frisk._ _He'd just think I had a stupid crush_. You can't stop the thoughts now, mentally berating yourself for even considering making a confession - _Urgh!_ You’re cringing heavily at yourself.

Sans must see you wince, must see your expression scrunched with mortification.

‘You okay?’ He asks.

You nod.

‘Mmmm,’ you lie. ‘I’m good. Let's go.’

Sans walks out from inside the sentry station and gives its side a little _pat pat_ , like its a loyal horse that's carried him across a battlefield.

‘See ya next time,’ he mutters to it quietly, before turning to you. ‘Get those little legs goin’, pal. We’ve got a ways to go to the Lab, but we can totally make it there before the end of the day.’

And although you still feel childish, ridiculous, slightly self-loathing, tired and longing all rolled into one, you push it all down and force a smile on your face. You didn't even know what day it was anymore, let alone how many days had actually passed since the beginning of your adventure.

And so, on you walk.

 

 

 

***

 

 

  
When you eventually reach the Lab doors, the building looms over you and you feel your confidence begin to falter even more.

‘It's huge,’ you half whisper, feeling unsure. Your shoulders hunch forward as you nervously work over your belt buckle with your thumb.

When Sans doesn’t reply, you turn to look at him. His expression seems to mirror how you feel; he's eyeing the building with just as much trepidation as yourself.

‘Welp,’ he sighs. ‘I mean, it ain't exactly a hotdog stand, that's for sure.’

‘You think… Do you think it's dangerous?’ You ask Sans quietly.

He pauses for a moment before taking his usual stance, casual, grin relaxed.

‘Nah,’ he assures. ‘Anyone messes with us, I’ll crush ‘em.’

He's throwing you a grin, but you feel unconvinced.

You step forward, and the Lab doors pull apart automatically with a _fffwiiiiing_. It's dark inside. You step forward, slowly, Sans just behind you.

There are no lights on in the lab, and you can only barely make out the shapes of the room from the little bit of light that seeps in through the doors from Hotland. A blue glow suddenly begins to burgeon and spread across the room, making things somewhat clearer. You turn to Sans, and as you expect, his left socket is aglow with a large, feathering blue flame that emits a hazy yet bright light.

‘Try lookin’ for a light switch on the wall, kiddo,’ he suggests.

‘Okay,’ you nod. ‘Why isn't anyone home though…?’

‘Beats me, pal.’

You run your hands over the room’s walls and eventually land on something solid and flickable. You flick the switch. Artificial and painfully bright lamps flicker into action, lighting up the room properly. You squint, flinching with the sudden influx of light after spending so long thus far in dimly lit caves.

With a quick blink of his sockets, Sans’ eyes return to normal, and he takes in the room, scanning it for any sign of… well, anyone.

‘H-hello?’ You call out, nervously. ‘Anyone home?’

Sans uses his phone to call back his hoodie from the Dimensional Box and pulls it on, zipping it up and shoving his hands in the pockets. His expression is a little stern with wariness as he steps to stand beside you.

You take a proper look at the lab. The room is huge, and wide; the floor is cold, clean, tiled. Papers and snack wrappers litter a large desk. You raise an eyebrow at some cartoonish looking figurines. There’s also a huge screen, with a control desk, full of complicated looking buttons and levers. You cast your eye over the sheets of notes and books scattered on the large desk. It seems like organised chaos. The notes are full of complicated mathematical equations and diagrams of some sort of mechanical parts. You notice one sheet in particular, which seems to show a basic blueprint for some kind of robotic device. In red pen, circled and underlined fiercely, you read the words ‘LOVES DRAMA???’

You look up and see Sans investigating a nearby fridge. He’s peering into it cautiously.

‘You really think you should be looking in there?’ You ask, giggling nervously.

Sans shuts the fridge door, turning back the twist handle on it. He inspects his hand, which comes away from the handle with a layer of dust. Looking around, you realise that everything seems pretty dusty.

‘Somethin’ tells me this place hasn't had anyone in it for a while,’ Sans mutters. ‘S’just full of noodles, anyway.’

‘You mean the lab’s been abandoned?’ You ask quietly.

Sans sighs. ‘Looks like it.’

He looks crestfallen. The one thing he had been banking on had been this, finding the Royal Scientist, getting answers, helping the two of you both discover what you have lost. Sans scowls as he lightly kicks at a scrunched ball of paper near a trash can, hands deep into his pockets.

‘Typical.’ He grumbles.

You feel a surge of determination.

‘There’s gotta, gotta be something in here, I’m sure!’ You try, wandering around, lifting up things here and there, peeking behind a door (—just a bathroom) and looking for something. Anything.

‘Give it up, kid,’ Sans monotones. ‘Let’s get outta here. What a waste of time…’

‘Wait!’ You exclaim. ‘This looks interesting.’

In front of you, is a large mechanical structure. It's effectively a metal box, with a screen, dials and a keypad. It looks familiar, but you can't pin point exactly why… Peering behind it, you see a cable plugged into it, and when you follow the line of the cable, you notice it leads to a power adaptor that is just shy of a socket in the wall.

Sans wanders over to you, and eyes the machine. He raises a bony skullbrow.

‘Whatever, kid, it's just a machine. C’mon, this is pointless.’

You shake your head, determined to find something useful in all of this. You haphazardly press a button on the machine, and it's screen flickers - oh! - it displays a blinking icon of a battery with no power.

‘It needs charge!’ You exclaim, excitedly. You pick up the cable and trot over to the wall socket. ‘Should I plug it in?’

Sans’ face looks strained with both weariness and mild amusement.

‘Nnnnyeehhh…’ he groans, sounding unconvinced, rubbing the back of his skull. ‘I dunnoooo, kid. Maybe we’re best off leaving things alone, we don't know what we’re messin’ with…’

‘Too late!’ You giggle, thinking,  _whats the worst that can happen?!_

You shove the plug into the socket, then eagerly step back over to the machine. You hear a low hum begin to emit from it as it begins to fill with power, and it's systems seem to boot up. Two panels on its sides slide open and, slowly, out emerge two… arms?! With gloved hands…

‘Oh!’ You laugh. ‘You gave me a steak that looked like this once!’ You tell Sans, cheerfully.

You turn to him, giggling, but quickly stop when you see his face. Sans' expression is that of mild horror.

‘What?’ You ask.

The machine rises a little as a wheel on a stilt forms from beneath it. The battery icon on its screen is blinking aggressively, two thirds full—

‘Ohhhhh no,’ Sans groans, face scrunched, a bony palm raised to his forehead in frustration. ‘Kid, you had to go and turn it on, didn'tya…’

‘Whaaaat?’ You ask, a little whiny sounding with confusion. ‘What's wrong?’

Sans shakes his skull and gives you a look that silently says _good freakin’ job, numbskull._

‘No wonder ratin’s went down, if the battery was flat…’ Sans mumbles.

You turn your head back to the robot, who’s hands now seem to be flexing with its return to life. The battery reaches full capacity, blinking a bright celebratory green, and you hear a congratulatory sounding little jingle.

‘See?’ You laugh, a little nervously. ‘It's just a silly robot!’

‘OHHHHHH YES!’ You hear suddenly, a metallic yet entirely flamboyant voice sounding from the machine in front of you.

‘BACK TO LIFE AAAAAT LAST! BUT DARLING, WHO ARE YOU CALLING SILLY?’

You look at Sans, who rolls his eye sockets.

‘Frisk,’ he starts, voice strained with mild annoyance and impatience. ‘Meet Mettaton. Celebrity sweetheart of the Underground.'


End file.
